Spion din Romania
by amethyst noir
Summary: When a routine Network mission goes horribly wrong Joe finds himself in a tough spot, especially considering his Romanian’s a little rusty.
1. The Extent of Romania's Hospitality

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Hardy Boys...sad but true.

**A/N:** Please read and review...it would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!

**Spion din Romania**

**Chapter 1: The Extent of Romania's Hospitality  
**

The small town in the hills of Romania was roughly ten miles away from Bucharest. But for the brothers scouring the countryside for an almost nonexistent warehouse, it seemed as if it were thousands of miles away from any form of civilization.

Ten minutes into their stay in the country the younger of the pair had already regretted not studying his brother's Romanian dictionary. He never figured it would have been so impossible to function in the country not knowing the whole damn language.

But of course that was where his brother came in handy. The seventeen year old had always taken his older brother's bilingual abilities for granted, but now he was thankful to at least pick up a few phrases from his partial knowledge of the Romanian language.

After multiple--but anticipated--arguments and a few debriefings from a not-so-happy higher up, the brothers had finally managed to pinpoint the exact location of the building they were looking for. An orphanage hidden in the remote hills of a literal ghost town.

The older boy sighed as he watched his year younger counterpart fiddle with the walkie talkie in his hands. He scrutinized him as he attempted to adjust the dial, having to frequently brush his unruly blond bangs from his face. The eighteen year old finally decided that his brother was in desperate need of a hair cut.

The blond, clearly unaware of his siblings insignificant observations, was about ready to throw the piece of technology through the windshield of their rented SUV when it was snatched out of his hands by the scrutinizing party aforementioned.

The older, brown haired teen turned the knob to the appropriate notch and handed it back to his brother, trying to hold back a smug smile. Wordlessly the two got out of the car which was hidden in the undergrowth of the surrounding trees and headed due north, straight towards the rundown orphanage.

Their mission? Well for starters, don't get caught. But their primary goal was to gather enough evidence, preferably photographed confirmation of the suspected operations taking place just inside the foreign building.

The Gray Man had leveled with them that it was a straight forward mission. There was no need for them to do anything other than prove that the Valea Orphanage was a host to more than just unsanitary living conditions. He'd given them strict orders _not_ to look into anything other than the illegal operations. The brothers both knew what he meant. The children were not _their_ first priority.

So the brother team had taken it upon themselves to take the necessary precautions not to get shot, caught, killed or any other action that could ruin the Network's activities.

The two walked along stealthily, the younger, more impulsive teen ahead of his brother. The high tech camera around his neck swaying slightly as they trudged onwards with their prefabricated plan.

Upon reaching the building's entrance--which was saying a lot considering the "entrance" wasn't more than a literal hole in the wall--the fair haired teen advanced, leaving his worried brother behind to act as the lookout.

Of course, being the elder brother he had argued at length that _he_ should be the one inside the orphanage. But his younger sibling, also being the _stubborn_ teenager that he is, had out right refused. So with yet another heavy sigh, the eighteen year old leaned against the cement warehouse, keeping his grip tight on the walkie talkie in his hands.

The blond brother managed to situate himself so that his back was facing a wall--heeding to a lesson his father had taught him, "never leave your back vulnerable to your enemies." His front side was partially hidden by a wooden crate and the shadows the midday sun created through the high positioned windows in the structure.

The camera, equipped with high speed film snapped off shots of it's unsuspecting victims while the young spy viewed the happenings through the small lens. There were three men, all speaking in a heavy accented Romanian tongue that even his brother wouldn't be able to decipher. But for the blond observer, the pictures spoke a thousand words.

Standing next to the men was a crate filled to the brim with small parcels each individually wrapped to secure it's safety during a transaction. From the looks of it, the young brother could only assume that _this_ was what the Gray Man was after. They were smuggling drugs, using an orphanage as their cover. He might have even considered it ingenious if he wasn't a good guy.

Soon though he became bored with the proceedings at hand and let his eyes wonder around the rest of the facility. He was only on the first level and looked up to see a metal walkway stretch all the way around the building. On the second floor there were many padlocked doors which the teen could only assume was where the children were kept.

Staring up at the doors he felt his blood boil, but he had to remain focussed and remember _why_ he was here. The children were not his first priority. That is what Gray had told him. But Gray wasn't here. He couldn't see the steel doors and dirt floors. He couldn't feel the draft and hear the mice running through the rafters.

The young man blinked as he heard a scuffling. Pulling his attention back to reality he realized that the three men he had earlier been photographing were now gone and his mission was complete. He brought the walkie talkie to his lips and was careful to whisper.

"Frank?"

The noise started the older teen at first. He'd been almost too preoccupied with worrying about his brother to realize that he was talking to him through the electronic device he clutched in his hand.

"I'm here Joe. What's happening--"

But he never got the chance to finish his sentence. Through the static of the walkie talkie he could hear heavily accented voices yelling in Romanian and the stampeding of feet on the dirt floors. But what chilled him the most was the muffled yell for help from his brother.

"Joe!" he yelled into the device, fear setting in, taking over his capacity to think straight. "Joe!"

But there was no answer. Just cold, dead silence.

Then an explosion rocked the air around him. He was sent tumbling to the earth, scrambling away as heat and flames escaped from the building, licking at the dry grasses surrounding it. Another series of explosions sounded and debree flew everywhere. The energy was transmitted as a shock wave through the air, sending the older boy sprawling.

He could feel an overwhelming pressure in his head and could taste the copper in his mouth. He didn't seem to have control over his limbs and the sensation of sleep was quickly seeping into his mind. He could feel blood dripping down his forehead mixing with the tears and dirt already splayed across his features. He couldn't fall asleep, he had to save his brother. But he couldn't fight the spots that presented themselves across his eyes.

Through as haze of bare awareness and tears Frank Hardy took one last look at the burning building, called his brother's name once more, and sank back into a dark cloud of unconsciousness.

* * *

**A/N:** "Spion din Romania" literally means "Spy of Romania"

As well "Valea Orphanage" is "Valley Orphanage"

Okay, well I really hope some readers like this new story...I am dedicating it to my longest and closest friend who was adopted from an abusive home in Romania. I love her dearly....I hope you will read and review! Thank you!


	2. An Unhappy Encounter

**A/N: **Thank you all kindly for your reviews...they are all greatly appreciated!

* * *

**Chapter 2: An Unhappy Encounter  
**

All Joe Hardy knew was that it was dark and his head hurt...a lot. Then a cloud of pain, angry voices, and a loud engine pulled at his consciousness and clouded his thoughts.

The last thing he remembered was being dragged from his hiding spot at the orphanage and a loud explosion. Then he had been knocked out. Probably the cause of the pain in his head.

His wrists and ankles felt raw and he had a bitter taste in his mouth. Thick ropes and a gag being the culprits. Slowly he opened his eyes. It was dark but Joe could tell he was inside the back of a moving truck. It had a thick cloth roof that was a dark green. The vehicle reminded him of the old medical trucks used in Vietnam.

Craning his neck to see the front of the vehicle he could only make out the backs of two men's heads. After another moment Joe realized the truck was coming to a halt. Fear formed ice in his gut.

The two men exited the truck and a few seconds later the back flaps were ripped open. Joe choked against his gag as a thick cloud of dust and dirt flew into his face. The men were expressionless, wearing nondescript clothing and mirrored sunglasses. Joe could tell by their olive skin and hair that they were probably natives of Romania.

Roughly they pulled the teen by his ankles closer to the back of the truck. A knife slashed through his bonds and they pulled the gag from his mouth, but before Joe could say anything the knife was thrust against his throat.

He was pulled and prodded towards a building that, to him, looked almost identical to the one that was now a burning pile of wood and bricks. On the outside were a few signs in Romanian that he couldn't understand. Only one word jumped out at him. Orfelinat. Orphanage.

Entering the building, the two Romanians dragged him up a flight of rusting metal stairs and down an open hallway towards a large metal door that looked newer than the entire building, complete with multiple dead bolts. Joe groaned inwardly as one of the men slowly unlocked the door.

Joe was thrust into the room landing painfully on his hands and knees. He heard the creaking sound of the door being shut and the sickening sound of the bolts put back in place. Slowly he raised his gaze from the ground. All around him tiny eyes stared at him, curious and frightened.

Joe sat up and leaned against a wall, unaware of the dirt and water dripping down it. He looked at the children before him. There had to be at least twenty. All ages, all sizes. Most were little boys, but he did notice a few girls sitting at the farthest wall from him.

Their faces were covered in grime and their eyes red. Their clothing torn, stained, and loose fitting as if they were hand-me-downs from previous tenants. He shivered at that thought. Their pale skin--what he could see of it--was pulled tight across their small bones. Everyone of them were skeletons.

Joe felt moisture in his eyes but fought hard to keep his emotions under control. He had to think with a level head. He had to get out of this situation so he could help these poor children.

Clearing his throat he decided to see if any of them could answer some of his questions. "I'm here to help," he lied quietly, hoping to gain their trust. But all the children just looked at him in confusion. _None of them must understand english, _he thought unfortunately. "Do any of you speak english?"

He scanned the room until he came to two sets of dark brown eyes. The heads connected to them were nodding slowly. "Are you from America?" a little voice asked.

Joe sighed and smiled. "Yes. What about you?"

"We are from England," the other boy said. Joe noticed a hint of a British accent in his tiny voice. He couldn't have been more than nine years old.

"Well, how did you get here?" Joe asked moving slowly to the two identical brothers. They reminded him of Frank when he was that old. The boys looked at him hesitantly, still not sure whether to trust this newcomer.

Joe put his hands up peacefully and kneeled by the two boys. "It's okay, you can trust me. My name's Joe, I'm gonna get you out of here."

"They got you too?" the boy on his right wondered quietly. Joe didn't know exactly what to say.

Finally he sighed and nodded, "Yeah. They did. Do you know who _they _are?"

The twins shook their heads back and forth. "No one does." They pointed to all the children who'd been watching the exchange. "But at least they can understand them."

Joe nodded, understanding how frustrating it must be for the two English boys. _The others,_ he presumed, _must be from Romania._ "Okay. Well I promise we're gonna get out of this. My brother is going to find us," Joe told them confidently, hoping to boost their spirits.

The two youths looked at each other, "You have a brother?"

Joe smiled seeing the light in the boy's eyes, "Uh-huh. His name is Frank. He's the best big brother in the world, and I promise you he'll find us."

The twins smiled for the first time, feeling more comfortable with Joe.

"Which one of you is the big brother?" Joe asked, trying to find more out about the two.

"Cam is," said the one to his left, pointing at his brother, "I'm Calvin and he's Cameron."

"Momma says that Cal is four minutes younger than me," Cameron said.

Joe nodded, still smiling, but he could see that his conversation was slowly going downhill. Both Cam and Cal had tears in their small brown eyes, threatening to spill any minute.

"We miss our momma and papa," Cam choked out. Joe wasn't sure what to do. The kids seemed to trust him now, but were still wary of the older boy. Taking a chance Joe wrapped his arms around the small twins and held them tightly as they each cried into opposite shoulders.

"It's okay, I promise we'll get you out of here and back to your mom and dad," Joe whispered into their ears. He looked up to see all the other children still staring at him, but this time with less fear in their young faces. They looked more hopeful now.

But then the door opened with a loud creek and their faces registered terror once again.

Joe looked up, as well as Cam and Cal who cowered away from him when they saw the three men enter. They wiped their faces to hide their tears.

"Inapoi!" one of the large men shouted to the children. Joe saw every child back up towards the wall in trepidation.

Before Joe could collect his thoughts his arms were grabbed by two of the Romanian guards and his back and head were slammed into the wall with a sickening thud.

"Cine esti tu?" their boss yelled in his face. But Joe didn't understand the Romanian words. However he did understand the left hook to his jaw.

"You are American, yes?" he asked in a heavy accent and choppy english. Joe strained against the two men holding him but nodded his head yes.

"Vat were you doing at Valea?" he asked. Joe looked at the man through glaring eyes. He was about an inch taller than him with thinning brown hair and icy blue eyes.

"You bastard. How can you treat these kids like this and use them to hide your operation?" Joe spat out at him. He watched as the Romanian man growled under his breath and brought out a handgun.

"You vill call me Sir and only speak ven you are spoken to," he hissed shoving the gun under Joe's chin roughly. "Yes?"

Joe glared daggers at the man and through clenched teeth answered, "Yes...Sir."

The gun was quickly removed and Joe let out a small sigh of relief. 'Sir' turned to look at the children. He told them something in Romanian and they all nodded their heads quickly.

"You are spy, yes?" he turned back to Joe, who silently stared at him.

When he realized Joe wasn't going to answer, he squinted at him and spun on his heel. He was about to leave the room but first he yelled an order.

"Ucide el."

Joe's eyes grew wide. He knew enough Romanian to understand what 'Sir' had just ordered his guards.

"Kill him."

* * *

**A/N:** "Inapoi!" means "Back!"

"Cine esti tu?" means "Who are you?"


	3. Unlikely Promises

**A/N: **Thank you so kindly for your reviews! I actually jumped up and down when I saw them! Oh and Melissa, I cannot believe I made you cry! :) I'm so glad you all like it so much, I really really appreciate all your feedback! Now, I really hope the next few chapters can live up to the last one...happy reading!

p.s. - sorry in advance, this one's a little short.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Unlikely Promises  
**

Frank was woken up by a strong, acrid smell assaulting his senses. He opened his eyes and he found himself woozily staring at a tall man dressed in a long white coat holding a small cap of ammonia in front of him.

"Good of you to finally join us," the man said in a soft British accent. He smiled down at Frank gently before checking his vital signs.

"You know, you are very lucky to be alive," the doctor told Frank, looking at his heart monitor. Frank opened and closed his eyes a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. How had he gotten here? Why was he lucky to be alive? And where was Joe...?

Frank sat up fast, looking to the wires on his arms and chest and the IV in his vein. "Joe!" he shouted, reaching to pull the needle out of his arm, but the doctor's hand reached his wrist first.

"Mr. Hardy, please." The doctor pushed him back down onto the cot. Frank could hear the heart monitor rapidly changing. His eyes shifted back to the doctor.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice raspy and tired sounding. How long had he been unconscious?

"A small hospital in Bucharest. I am Dr. Aldridge. Do you remember anything that happened to you?" he asked, calmly sitting on the edge of the hospital cot.

Frank closed his eyes for a moment. He had an excruciating headache. Wrinkled memories flashed across his eyelids. He tried to remember, something, anything.

"I-I don't remember." Frank opened his eyes and looked around for the second time. "Where's my brother?"

"Your brother?" Dr. Aldridge frowned, "Frank, you are the only one who came in. Was your brother at the orphanage as well?"

Frank sat up slightly shaking his head slowly and rubbing his temples. Nothing made sense. What was the doctor talking about? Orphanage?

All at once Frank's memories came flooding back. The Valea Orphanage flashed through his mind, the explosion, everything. Tears welled in Frank's eyes.

"Joe. I have to find my brother! He has to be okay...has to..." He tried to rip the IV out again but Aldridge stopped him.

"Frank, you must calm down, you have to stay here for now. We'll find your brother, it will be alright," he assured him, trying to stay relaxed and positive.

Tears fell down Frank's face as realization hit him. "No we won't," he choked out. "We won't b-because...because Joe was in the building...when it exploded..."

* * *

Joe stiffened as two knives hovered above his throat.

"W-wait!" he called nervously to 'Sir' just as he was about to leave the room. The man turned slowly, eyeing the frightened teen.

"Please...please don't kill me...in front of the kids," Joe said, looking to the small children cowering along the opposite wall.

The Romanian boss grunted, but nodded his head, following Joe's gaze. The knives were lowered a half inch. Joe sighed softly.

Sir walked closer to Joe, scrutinizing him. Something was different about this American. "Citi bani s-ar aduce?" he barked to one of his guards.

The man shrugged slightly, turning to look at Joe through dead, dark eyes, "O mie...poate," he replied. Joe watched Sir's eyebrows raise slightly and felt his muscles tighten.

Sir turned on his heel again, sending up a flurry of dirt around his boots. "Bring him."

The two men pulled him towards the doorway. "Wait! W-what?"

"Have you ever heard of Romanian underground slave market, Spy?"

"No."

"Too bad," Sir frowned in mock sadness. "You vill be spending much time there soon."

"No." Joe struggled with the men. "What about these children? You can't just leave them here!"

"Da. They vill be relocated," he growled. Joe was shoved towards the door again. He thrashed in their grips, trying to get at least one good punch in. He felt helpless, especially considering the knives that were held at his back.

"You are American," Sir explained angrily, "You bring good money at auction."

"Auction?" Joe blurted out. Sir slapped him roughly across the face.

"Enough!" he yelled. He turned to the children, "Poarta!" Joe felt the coppery crimson in his mouth as he stared at the kids who bowed their heads, trying to hide their quaking horror. All but two children had submitted to the Romanian boss.

Young Cameron and Calvin held their ground, glaring at Sir. Their small hands forming fists at their sides. Joe watched them, praying they wouldn't get out of line.

"Joe." Cam took a step forward. Sir turned towards him, a grin playing on his face. His eyes sparkled with malign amusement. The boy stopped dead in his tracks.

Joe looked to Cameron with worry. "I'll get you out of here...all of you. I promise."

He felt rope bite into his wrists which were already raw. Sir faced him, his height shadowing Joe's features. Before the captive could say anything more a piece of cloth was pulled into his mouth.

"You shouldn't make promises you cannot keep," Sir hissed as Joe was dragged from the room.

* * *

**A/N:** "Citi bani s-ar aduce?" means "How much is he worth?"

"O mie...poate." means "A thousand...maybe."

"Poarta!" means "Behave!"


	4. A Gun's Greeting

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your reviews, they mean so much to me! Okay, so this chapter is a "Frank chapter." Sorry you Joettes out there ;) but once I got inside Frank's head I just couldn't seem to get out...hope you like the chapter though!

p.s.- once again sorry for the shorter chapters

* * *

**Chapter 4: A Gun's Greeting  
**

Dr. Aldridge walked down the narrow hospital hallway. Flickering fluorescent lights hung overhead creating a dim shadow as he trudged on.

Already today the doctor had been in surgery for over three hours. Due to un-sanitary conditions and inept volunteers the patient was barely hanging on. He hated that feeling pulling at his heart and mind but he refused to let himself be pulled into a guilt trip. After all that's why he had become a doctor, to help the less fortunate and if they didn't pull through he couldn't let it get to him. He was usually very good at being detached.

Aldridge walked past the small nurses station. The sound of fingers tapping on yellowing computer keys followed him down the corridor until he stopped in front of room 401. With a heavy sigh, Dr. Aldridge pushed open the door.

Immediately he heard the humming of machines--or rather lack there of--all the doctor heard was the faint flat line of the heart monitor. He gazed at the hospital cot in front of him. It was empty except for some wires, a broken IV, and a few jumbled off white sheets.

Dr. Aldridge stared at the now vacant room slightly angered by his patient's actions. However, if one looked close enough they would be able to see a barely discernible smirk appear on his aged face.

* * *

It was a rare occasion to see himself so raggedly out of character.

In all his life he had only felt this same soul splitting unrest on a few rare occasions. Like a numbing discomfort eating away at him with every step he took. His muscles tense and agonizingly stunned from his heart down to his toes. Each stride, every footfall the teen took was as if he was splitting himself in two, leaving his brother behind. Betraying him.

But the ringing in his ears and mind told him that this was the only way he knew to decipher what the hell had _actually _happened.

Frank Hardy hurried along the back-streets of Bucharest. He had a general idea of where he was and where he wanted to go. Now how to get there? That was another story.

Bucharest, though he had studied maps of the city some one hundred times, was still totally foreign to him...especially considering he was on foot at this point. He was sure his rental car had been compounded by the police as evidence. So for now, he was on his own.

As Frank walked, trying to go at a normal pace as to not draw attention to himself, he looked down at his clothing. It was the only thing he had found at the hospital besides his wallet. His clothes were dirty and worn from the explosion, but he figured at least he would blend in with the alleys which he was traveling through. He had even rubbed some of the grease from his pants on his face, that way he was less conspicuous. He wouldn't be mistaken for a rich tourist, but rather for a stray waif. Which at the moment was partially true.

Frank then looked to his surroundings. The back alley was filled with old boxes, trash, dirt, and grime. But looking out across the street he could see the real Bucharest.

It was a beautiful city filled with many high rises and ornate buildings. There were museums, beautiful parks and bridges. He could just make out the faint outline of the National Museum of Art with it's striking windows, casings, scrolling marble columns and moldings. The city, though large and bustling still had a quaint feel to it, that is if you ignored the alleys, just like the one Frank was currently occupying.

Continuing with his brisk walk, the teen decided that his best plan of action was to find his hotel. Then he could call his father, the authorities, and his least favorite, The Gray Man.

They had botched the mission. Joe had...disappeared--(Frank had currently refused to believe Joe was actually dead. He was a man who stood by the belief that with no evidence nothing could be proven true...or maybe he was just being hopeful...)--And now Frank would have to take the rap. He really wasn't looking forward to that last phone call.

Shuffling along feeling less than optimistic about his situation, Frank thought about his brother. He should have never let him go into the orphanage alone! What had he been thinking? No, that was it. He hadn't been thinking. Once again he'd let Joe's obstinate persistence sweet talk him into letting his guard down.

Now Joe was gone...possibly dead. But he still wouldn't bring himself to think like that. Not yet. Not until he was one hundred percent sure. Of what, he wasn't sure. But of something. Anything.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Frank looked around trying to think clearly. He quickly ducked behind a rickety stack of crates, not sure what to expect. He was in an overseas county, presently alone so he had to be careful.

Through a splintering crack in one of the boxes he could see three men. All had dark eyes and oily black hair, or at least as far as he could tell they did, considering the dark shadows of the alley.

Although Frank knew many common Romanian words and phrases he could not understand what these three foreigners--or natives rather--were saying. Their accents were too thick and heavy and their conversation was fast and broken.

The three started to sidle closer to his hiding spot. Frank held his breath, hoping they weren't there for the crates he was using for cover. He was pretty sure these three shabby men weren't just in this desolate back-street for friendly chit chat.

Frank knew thirty seconds more and he would be gasping for air. What's more, his foot was asleep. But that turned out not to be his biggest problem at the moment.

Next to his ear he heard the familiar click of a gun's safety.

Turning his head a third of an inch Frank found himself staring down the dark, hollow barrel of a thirty-three millimeter Glock.


	5. The Romanian Underground

**Chapter 5: The Romanian Underground  
**

Joe's head rose and a slight panic filled him when he heard the army truck come to a halt. He had yet another headache from a cheap shot one of the men had taken at the back of his head when they exited the orphanage.

Rage surpassed the panic when one of the guards opened the back panel to the truck bed and reached inside to grab him. Growling, Joe struck out at him as he tried to undo the ropes at his feet. Frustration flowed through the teen when the Romanian easily dodged his strike and backhanded him hard. The other two men snickered and laughed at him as his head flung backwards from the strike. Once the ropes on his feet were off, Sir grabbed him by the shirt and yanked Joe towards him.

"Try another move like that and money or not, I vill kill you. Now get up."

Joe's eyes darkened at the threat as blood rolled freely down from his nose. The man yanked him to his feet when it was apparent Joe wasn't going to move on his own. Growling in frustration, he shoved him over to the youngest of the guards and told him to take the 'spy.' Joe smirked at the man's annoyance before he was pulled away and out into a hot and humid day.

His clothes instantly stuck to him as he broke out into a sweat from the heat. His nose crinkled and his eyes watered when he was pulled into the thick of a busy market. Body odor, food, sweat, and perfumes all vied for the strongest scent, causing Joe to gasp and choke behind the gag from nausea. How the hell could anyone handle this? This place reeked, but there were still hundreds, if not thousands, of people packed into the small place. And yet none of them seemed to see anything wrong with a bound and gagged teenager being pulled along through the throng.

The sounds of foreign shouting assaulted his ears. "Nu am auzit...O mie? Doua mie?" It was an auctioneer selling...people...to the highest bidder.

He cursed as he was continuously thrown this way and that. Needless to say it wasn't making his mood any better and by the time they finally stopped, he was pissed beyond belief. This was just the sort of thing that always seemed to happen to the younger Hardy, and yet again he was counting on his big brother to come to the rescue. Well not this time, Joe vowed silently, this time he was going to get out of this mess all by himself.

Another man, dressed in grimy army fatigues took one look at his rage tinged blue eyes and shook his head, then nodded towards a dank corridor to their right. Joe smirked as the guard cursed then pulled him away from the man and down the alley between rows and rows of men, women, and children. They were all thin and poorly dressed, similar to the orphans he had previously encountered. Joe sadly assumed they were all slaves up for sale.

Turning a dark corner he was thrown into cell like room. A strange sense of deja vu hit him, only this time he didn't have his hands and knees to break his fall. As he heard the door slam shut Joe lifted his head, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of his new quarters.

There wasn't much to look at in this new cell. Just like the room in the orphanage, the walls were dirty and the floors cold and wet. There was grime covering the unlit ceiling that looked as if it were about to drip on him at any moment.

"Are you h-hurt?" Joe flinched as he heard a quiet feminine voice beside him. Looking around he found a girl staring at him through red rimmed aqua eyes. Quickly she started to un-knot the ropes from his wrists and pulled the gag from his mouth.

Joe sat up slowly, leaning against a dirty wall, rubbing his sore arms. The girl looked at him as if she hadn't seen another person in years. Her hair looked as if it was tinted with glowing embers which accented her delicately tanned skin pulled tight over her bones creating a petite countenance. The teen's matted auburn bangs hung over glassy sapphire eyes. She looked to be about his age, maybe a little younger.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice sounding as if she was almost out of breath.

"My name's Joe. Joe Hardy."

The girl's eyes brightened slightly, but just as suddenly her gaze was vacant again. Joe frowned.

"What's _your_ name?" he asked. She stared at him with an intensity he couldn't translate.

Finally she closed her eyes, smiling. "Names are a triviality that we could all live without Joe." She paused opening her eyes again, this time they were focused on the confused teen sitting across from her. "But I suppose if you must know, I go by Grace."

"Grace." Joe said after a moment of contemplative silence. "How did you manage to wind up here? In this...place?" He scanned the room, noticing the shadows created by a barred window and the afternoon sunset. It wasn't the least bit hospitable, but at least his heart was still beating. A bit sporadically for his liking, but Joe would take what he could get at this point.

"I got in the way," Grace whispered simply, her voice lightening slightly. "As did you I assume."

"Got in the way? I don't--"

"You compromised their location, breached their security." Grace smiled when she saw Joe nod slightly, finally coming to an understanding.

"We have to find a way out of here." Joe's voice was determined as his eyes wandered around their cell. He stood slowly, circulation still an after thought in his legs. But Grace grabbed his arm before he could make another move. Her dirty fingers dug into his skin.

"No," she said quietly, "There is no way out Joe."

He shook his head. "There has to be. Come on, when they come back we'll just--"

"No, you don't understand. This isn't some sort of a game. They'll kill you and if they don't, they'll find you, and then it won't just be you they're after. They'll go after your family, your friends, everyone."

Grace's straight to the point, no beating around the "positivity bush" attitude was making Joe's nerves bubble over. He wasn't sure he was ready to hear what she was going to say next. But he did.

"They're serious, Joe. _Deadly_ serious."


	6. Bizarre Meeting or 'Magic Touch'

**A/N: **Ok, for those concerned that Grace is going to turn into a 'Mary Sue' I can _guarantee_ you that she is not. She's not even a main character, she's just in the next couple chapters. Promise. Anyways, thanks for your reviews! Hope you enjoy this next chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 6: Bizarre Meeting or 'Magic Touch'  
**

The gun pressed into Frank's temple, creating a rim of coolness on his skin.

"Well well look who it is," came a distinct female voice from beside him. "Having fun playing detective are we Frank? Where's your little partner in crime darling?"

Frank slowly closed his eyes and groaned. He, to his unfortunate surprise, recognized that voice. Of all the people he could meet in a foreign country _she_ wasn't even on his list.

"Charity," Frank hissed. He heard her quiet chattering laughter and felt slightly embarrassed to have been caught by her...again.

"You guessed it darling," she cooed, removing the gun from his forehead, but keeping it leveled at his chest.

"What on earth are you doing in Romania, Charity?" Frank asked, trying not to sound whiny, but for some reason that's still how it came out. He was fed up with running into this woman. She never seemed to bring him any good luck.

"I could ask you the same question," she replied with a smile. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Her light red hair was in loose curls with wispy bangs hanging over sapphire eyes. She motioned for Frank to stand and waited for his response.

"We--Joe and I--were here on...business."

"Speaking of which, where's your brother?" Charity asked, looking around like she might have missed him. By now the three men Frank had earlier been listening to had gathered behind Charity, scrutinizing her captive.

"Who is this?" one of them asked her in a heavily accented voice, a snarl appearing on his leathery face.

"This," Charity answered, "is Frank Hardy. An old acquaintance. Now, where is Joe?"

Frank thought for a moment, only paying half attention to the proceedings taking place in front of him. If he could somehow make it past Charity and the three Romanians then he could move on to trying to find the subject of the woman's query. Of course said woman _did_ have a gun trained on his heart.

"That I don't know," Frank replied, shaking his head slightly. Charity frowned, but he went on. "Now, if you would please excuse me, I'd like to get back to trying to find out what happened to him."

Trying his luck Frank made a move to walk past Charity, but she held her ground, the pistol unwavering. "Frank," she said with a sly smile, "I think we could be of assistance to each other. You see, my baby sister is missing as well."

* * *

Their tiny eyes stared back at him, pleading, helpless.

Joe's thoughts were restless as the haunting images flashed through his memory. Soon after he'd given up trying to find a way out of the cell his mind had begun to wander. An empty space had developed below his soul, pulling at his heartstrings. He had to save those children.

Grace, he noticed, seemed to be in some sort of meditative state. Not worrying about their current circumstances. It bothered Joe that she could be so calm and collected. Her relaxed composure reminded him of Frank which only seemed to make him more anxious.

He dug his heels into the ground beneath him. There had to be a way out and yet it seemed like his--their--fate was sealed. Her depressing monologue kept playing over again in his head, like an annoyingly accurate broken record player.

Though Joe would never admit it to Grace, he realized that what she had said was right. He'd gotten in the way, making him a liability. However, these criminals were even more greedy than most. Instead of having blood on their hands they opted to make a few extra bucks.

Quite honestly, Joe felt cheap.

"What are you thinking about?" Grace asked suddenly, her voice still in a hushed tone that Joe was starting to find just as annoying as her hushed personality.

"Nothing...Grace, how long have you been here? I mean are they ever coming back? How long do I have to wait to find out what's going to happen to me?"

"I'm sure you've heard the saying 'patience is a virtue,'" was Grace's response. Joe shook his head, fed up.

"I'm not patient. Especially when I'm locked up!" Joe yelled the last part, pounding a fist against the cell door.

But he didn't expect the door to open.

Slowly he peeked outside the doorway. There wasn't a soul in sight. He could just barely make out the sound of voices in another distant corridor, but that was it. He looked to his left, glancing t the rusted door hinges and lock that were practically disintegrating before his eyes. Thankfully luck had been on their side. Grace sidled up beside him, sticking her head around the corner. Once she seemed satisfied that the coast was clear she turned to Joe.

"Looks like you've got the magic touch darling," Grace said, her voice not quite as melancholy as before. Joe wasn't sure but he thought he noticed a touch of hope in her eyes.

Quietly they both slipped out of the cell, closing the door behind them. They were free! Though one thing did strike Joe.

"Do you have any idea where we are or how to get out of this place?" he asked Grace in a whisper. She shrugged without looking at him. The universal sign for 'I haven't the foggiest.'

Sighing to himself Joe followed the girl down the dirty passageway. Looking around him, he noticed there weren't anymore cells down this way. Theirs must have either been the last or the only one in the building.

After meandering around through the dank hallways the two soon came to a set of stone stairs. As quietly as possible they started up them, one step at a time. Joe couldn't help the adrenaline rushing through him. He was almost out of this mess which meant he could find his brother and get out of this country that was, truthfully, starting to get on his nerves.

Grace felt the same rush of energy through her, but for another reason altogether. She would finally be able to get these criminals behind bars and they would get their punishment. She'd been waiting way too long for this retribution. Just wait until her sister found out, then who would be the incompetent little girl?

They were both interrupted from their thoughts as the sound of heavy footsteps came from behind them. The footfalls sounded like a hollow death procession echoing down the lengthy enclosed passageway. Joe heard a few familiar words, one was 'evacuare' meaning 'escape' and the other created a sour twisting in his stomach. 'Ucide.'

Yes, he knew that word all too well. That was the word for 'kill.'

The footsteps grew heavier, as did the couple's heart rates. They could feel their captors closing in. It was only a matter of time. They were trapped.


	7. My Dear Lady Luck

**A/N: **Thanks for all your support guys! Sorry for the wait, here's the next chap...

* * *

**Chapter 7: My Dear Lady Luck  
**

Joe's anger and panic melted into one, creating a boiling mass in his heart. They were cornered like caged animals and the guards were shooting to kill.

Grace closed her eyes next to the impulsive teen. He wasn't sure but Joe thought he heard her whispering 'Our Father.' Pulling a piece of tawny yarn from her pocket she proceeded to tie her hair away from her face, still muttering the prayer.

He didn't know how she could be staying so collected. He was practically having a panic attack. Of course he wasn't showing it, but inside he knew he was freaking out. But this..._girl_ was standing there, fixing her hair and mumbling a prayer as if her last moments on God's green earth were just an everyday routine for her! How could she be staying so calm? Okay Joe, he thought to himself, it's not worth it to be jealous of a girl's level head at a time like this! You have to think of a plan!

Yes, a plan. What a novel idea? However, for Joe Hardy, coming up with a plan under pressure was like asking someone to light a match under water. It just wasn't gonna happen.

Seeing a shadow from around the corner Joe instinctively pushed Grace behind him. He watched the trodden dirt floor and saw a pair of worn black army boots appear in the gray shadows. The icy glare the guard gave them sent a ripple of hostility through him, causing him to clench his fits, his skin stretching tight over his knuckles.

As the guard raised the gun, aiming it in perfect precision with Joe's heart the crack of metal on metal could be heard in the silence. The teen readied himself for impact, closing his eyes, subconsciously saying goodbye to everyone he'd ever known.

But the fiery flesh ensconcing pain never hit him. His eyes flickered open in time to see the dark blood run from the chest of the Romanian and his body topple to the ground with a resounding thud, his eyes frozen in a combination of outrage and revelation.

Hearing a muffled sound from behind him Joe turned to see Grace held by a man in his early thirties with soulful brown eyes and gold flecked hair. A hand was over her mouth but the man seemed to mean no harm to either of them. Joe had decided this by the smoking gun he held loosely in his other hand, the dead guard's assassin.

He felt sweat building on his temple as the man silently guided the two escapees through a corridor Joe hadn't seen before. Though he realized why he hadn't seen it as the space behind him soon closed into a stone wall. A secret passageway, Joe thought with a grin. He had to hand it to this guy, whoever he was, he sure knew his way around this fortress.

The walkway was dim but there seemed to be a filtering of light that Joe couldn't quite detect. He was just thankful to be out of firing range. After another moment of silent walking, the older man stopped and turned around to face Joe and Grace, who at this point were beyond confused.

He grinned warmly at them. "You didn't think that door unlocked _all_ by itself did you?" His soft accent made Joe's memory fly back to the orphanage.

"Who are you?" Grace prompted the question that was preying on both teens minds.

"Benjamin Ramsey," he replied kindly, smiling down at the apprehensive pair. Grace looked to Joe, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head slightly, he'd never met this man in his life, so why had he risked his life to save them?

"I would say it's nice to meet you..." Joe trailed off and Benjamin took up where he left off.

"But you're not sure, right?" He sighed, still keeping his expression cheerful. "It's quite alright, you don't have to trust me...not yet at least."

The comment hung in the air similar to the suffocating humidity in the city far above them...

* * *

Unbeknownst to Frank and Charity, they were much closer to their missing younger siblings then they thought. The Romanian underground slave market enjoyed being right under everyone's noses. It made for inconspicuous but easily accessed--by the right people--auctions, and being so close to the public no one would ever suspect it.

Moisture found a comfortable spot at the nape of Frank's neck as he stared at the illusive woman before him. Charity had always been a bad omen, contrary to what her name seemed to portray. But this time she was asking for Frank's help in a subject he was all too well acquainted with.

Joe was not one for staying out of trouble. Not that he ever had to try too hard to find it. It wasn't like he made it his goal to go missing all the time, but it did happen quite frequently. That was just one more reason Frank had for not believing Joe had actually passed over yet. No, Joe's stubborn soul was annoyingly still bouncing around somewhere and his big brother could feel it.

"So your little nuisance is missing as well?" Charity inquired, a hint of humor in her voluptuous voice.

"He's not a--" but Frank decided with a sigh not to argue that point. "Yes he's temporarily...unaccounted for."

"So he's missing," Charity grinned. "Was he kidnapped? That seems to be a running thing with him doesn't it, darling?"

Frank ignored her comment. "I don't know yet."

"So Frank, you _think_ he's missing and don't know if he was kidnapped or just up and left you to fend for yourself? Does that sound about right?" Charity's blue eyes were glowing with amusement.

"Well...partially," Frank muttered. He didn't know why, but this woman had a certain numbing effect on his mind.

He heard some foreign mumblings beside him and turned to see the three Romanian's looking at him. Slowly he turned back to Charity.

"So...who are _they_?" Frank waved his hand towards the men, who were still eyeing the American warily.

"Guides," Charity answered nonchalantly. "I'm looking for my sister--like I said earlier. She was off playing detective," she paused, smirking, "I believe you can comply with that?"

Frank let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. Charity went on. "_She_ got a little too close to whoever she was spying on and poof, she was gone! We were here in Bucharest doing a little..._business _and _she _had to go and get herself kidnapped."

"Business?" Frank asked, hiding a grin.

"That is not the point my dear," Charity informed him, a sly twinkle in her eyes. Then, finally lowering the pistol, she wrinkled her nose and scrutinized Frank up and down.

"What in the world happened to you Frank?"

He walked closer to her, feeling more comfortable now that the gun had been lowered. "That _my dear_ is the root of Joe's disappearance, and I have an odd feeling that your sister and my brother may just be in the same boat."


	8. Good Business, Bad Business

**Chapter 8: Good Business, Bad Business  
**

Though Frank might have been fairing a little better in the luck department, Joe was having a much more adventurous time of it. However if one had spoken to him at this very moment, Joe might not have chosen "adventurous" to describe his unfortunate exploit.

"Mr. Ramsey--"

"Please, call me Benjamin. Mr. Ramsey always makes me feel old," Benjamin insisted, still keeping his amiable expression. Both teenagers were still in a state of shock and confusion, but the British man's demeanor did seem to ease some of their nervous feelings.

You are old, Joe thought wryly, but went on with his previously interrupted inquiry. "Why are you helping us?"

Benjamin looked at him, his eyes sharp and filled with an intenseness that Joe had never seen before. The only other time he'd seen a look remotely similar to it was in his brother's eyes. It was a gaze of fierce protectiveness

"You both have been to that orphanage, correct?" Benjamin asked, his face now partially masked by a crude combination of seriousness and concern. Now, Joe had been to two orphanages in the last twenty-four hours. He couldn't say the same for Grace, considering he'd only met her less than an hour ago. But right now he wasn't sure which orphanage Benjamin was referring to. A nerve of common sense told him it wasn't the one that was now a pile of smoldering rubble, but he couldn't rule it out.

"What orphanage?" Joe said, giving Grace a sidelong glance. She was staring at Benjamin, her face unreadable. Actually everything about her was unreadable which for Joe was frustrating. Her hair was falling around her face, the string loosening slightly in her auburn locks.

"Don't play dumb with me Mr. Hardy. I know you were there, otherwise you would have never ended up here in this retched place."

Joe was taken back by the man's abruptness. His calm face had all but vanished. "How did you know my name?" he finally croaked out and faintly noticed Grace eyeing Benjamin up and down, trying to locate the gun he had been carrying.

"I know many things, but how I know them is not something I wish to disclose," the older man answered cryptically. "Now, I have helped _you_, so in return you must help _me_."

"We _must_?" Grace said hotly.

"Well, I suppose you have a choice. But I would assume that neither of you would care to go back to those Romanians."

Joe nodded. This was some sort of game of twisted blackmail. "What do you want?"

Benjamin looked at the teens, sincerity slowly trickling back into his eyes. "I want to find my sons."

Joe gaped at the man. "Your--your sons?"

"Yes, you see they disappeared a month ago. Taken, I fear, by these men." He waved a long hand back in the direction of the covert stone door. "I have a feeling you have met them Mr. Hardy."

Joe did know what to say. His sons were Cameron and Calvin, that much he knew. Their innocent faces still appeared in his head, painted to his memory in grave detail. He'd made them a promise...one he _had_ to keep. "I promised them I'd get them out of that orphanage. Promised them they'd see you again," he said, trying to reign in his feelings which were stampeding behind the gates of his heart.

Benjamin sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight had suddenly been lifted from them. The only thing keeping him upright was the wall behind his back and his quaking legs. "My boys. You saw them? Are they alright?"

"They're fine," Joe replied sympathetically, fudging the truth just a bit. Grace watched their exchange in thoughtful silence. "How did they...end up--?"

"It's a long story Mr. Hardy," the older man replied, not making eye contact with his younger companions. Joe could almost see the relief tainted fear radiating off of Benjamin.

"I've got time--" Joe started to say but was interrupted by Ramsey.

"No. No you haven't. You have to get out, both of you. Mr. Hardy, you know where Cal and Cam are, only you, I cannot afford to have a bullet strike your body."

"But--"

"I will find you. Don't worry about how. I just will. Through that door, up the ladder. Go on, both of you," Benjamin ordered solemnly. They both stared at him as if he was senile, but Joe finally complied, pulling Grace with him. Something in Benjamin Ramsey's eyes told him that a resolution to the problems he'd been facing as of late was through that door and up the ladder. Which is exactly where Joe Hardy was going.

* * *

Frank had relayed the story of he and his brother's Romanian capers in detail to Charity. Although he did leave out a few facts--like the Network--that were not necessary in his recounting narrative.

"I have a car around the corner. Do you want a ride?" Charity asked, still taking in everything Frank had just told her. Could Joe and Grace be in the same boat? she wandered to herself.

"Charity. First, you pull a gun on me, then it's twenty questions, and now you're offering to give me a lift?" Frank asked a little skeptically. It was unlike the woman to be so...helpful.

Charity shrugged, understanding Frank's hesitancy. She had never been the most accommodating person towards the Hardys. As well, she couldn't quite keep the feeling of guilt out of her thoughts, knowing what she was doing was wrong.

Truthfully she believed she walked around spreading a streak of hazard and bad luck in her path. Which wasn't always a bad thing in her line of work.

Before Charity could voice her feelings though, Frank spoke up again. "So what was this business of yours here in Bucharest?"

"None of your concern," Charity replied, a smile creeping back onto her tanned face. She brushed her hair behind her shoulder, noticing just how hot the sun had gotten.

"Char--" However Frank didn't get to finish his protest. The sound of Romanian shouting came from behind them in the muggy alleyway. They both turned around to see a redheaded girl pop her head up from an open grate in the cement, surrounded by the three Romanian guides.

"Grace!" Charity called, rushing over to her younger sister. She pulled her up roughly, obviously not as concerned with her physical well being as Frank was about the next figure that seemingly rose from the within the ground.

"Joe!" His voice was a lot more rough than he thought.

"Frank?" Joe's voice however was much worse, hoarse and intertwined with fatigue and surprise.

"Oh man, you scared me straight!" Frank all but yelled, helping his brother up and squeezing him in a tight hug until Joe could barely breath.

"It's good to see you too bro," the younger Hardy gasped out.

"I thought you were dead," Frank said pointedly, shaking his head to clear the mist from his eyes. He looked to the sky, feeling a light shadow fall across his skin as a single cloud fluttered into view.

"Me too Frank. You have no idea." Joe smiled.

"How sweet," Charity crooned sarcastically. Joe's eyes shifted quickly between the woman and his brother. Confusion masked his face.

"Uh Joe...look who I ran into," Frank said uncomfortably. He noticed the young redhead from before hanging onto Charity's arm like a vice. The younger sister, he realized.

"Charity," Joe nodded towards her, "How's tricks?"

She laughed, always curiously amused by the blond teen. "Good, darling. But it seems you've run into a bit of bad luck, hm?"

Joe nodded, slightly puzzled by her comment and how it wasn't in the past tense, but rather, present. Before the brother's realized what was happening they were surrounded by five large men, Uzis in their unwavering hands. They were not of the Romanian race, that was the first thing he could tell. The second thing that ran through his mind was inevitable. _Assassins._

Joe looked at his brother who was equally as shocked and frustrated as he was. He heard a small sigh next to him and saw Charity and Grace, along with the three Romanian guides backing away.

"Sorry guys. But it's just good business," Charity said, her voice emotionless. Grace's face registered regretful pity and surprise but was quickly veiled by quiet composure.

And much like that lonely, forgiving cloud in the sky blocking the singeing rays from the brother's perspiring necks, Charity and Grace were gone.


	9. What is it With Men and Guns?

**A/N: **thanks for reading/reviewing guys! This is one of my favorite chapters, I hope you like it too!

* * *

**Chapter 9: What is it With Men and Guns?  
**

Gara de Nord, the largest railway station in all of Romania, was truly a grand building. Built two stories from the ground, it's sand colored cement facade and Greek inspired gunmetal gray pillars were massive, holding the sculptured roof high above the streaming passengers and passers by. Simple stained glass windows lined the interior of the breezeway framed by green and beige bricks.

However, the covert pistols aimed at the Hardy's backs seemed to distract them from their enjoyment of the architecture.

After Charity had handed them over to the five Uzi toting men, the brothers had been unceremoniously dumped into the back of an armored truck and waited in silence broken up by a few comments and queries here and there by both prisoners.

Now they were being guided against their will by two men into the bustling train station, uncertain of what exactly waited for them at the end of the line.

Frank had surmised that their captors were in fact Assassins because of the familiar emblem on one of the men's pocket lighters. He wasn't certain how Charity, or her sister for that matter, were connected with the terrorist group, but he supposed that _after_ they found their way out of their current mess he would have more time to figure that detail out.

Although at the moment neither brother had a clue as to what their next move was going to be.

"Frank?" Joe whispered, his voice sounding strained.

"Don't worry, they can't shoot us with all these people around." Frank's eyes shifted around the train station taking note of the hundreds of witnesses hustling from gate to gate.

"I wouldn't be so confident of that Mr. Hardy," one of the Assassins muttered in their ears, his hidden weapon prodding Frank in the ribs.

Joe's elbow shot out in anger and connected with the man's stomach. The terrorist stopped, bending over slightly, winded from the attack. Frank took advantage of the distraction, his foot shooting out and hitting their other captor in the shin, followed up by a left hook. The startled Assassin pulled his gun from his pocket, shooting it sporadically in no particular direction.

Startled screams and yelps were heard all around the four, a flurry of panic surrounding them. The brothers used the wave of hysteria to their benefit and ran headlong into the crowd.

The gunshots ceased considering the growing amount of people and the unnecessary need for innocent bullet wounds. The Assassins sprinted after Frank and Joe pushing through the frightened travelers.

The Hardys ran ahead of them dodging passengers and hurdling discarded luggage. They came to a row of turnstiles and vaulted over them in one swift motion.

Joe jogged a few feet ahead of his brother next to a slowly moving train departing from the station. A hand shot out and grabbed his arm pulling him back. Joe's fist was aimed at his attacker's face as he spun around, but was easily avoided.

"Frank!" Joe gasped in surprise, slightly annoyed. They were both panting from running for so long. "What the hell! C'mon!"

But Frank held his ground and grabbed his brother's arm again. "This way," he said, pointing to the train that was steadily picking up speed. Joe looked from the train to his brother to the crowd where the Assassins were gradually gaining on them.

"You're crazy...but okay," Joe smirked. His brother smiled and then the two jogged along the moving train until Frank reached a handle bar and hauled himself up onto the platform between cars. Joe was close behind and Frank grabbed his wrist helping him up. The loud clanging of iron dominoed the coaches of the train as it was pulled wheel by wheel onto the long journey.

Both brothers turned craning their necks to see the Assassins reaching the turnstiles, anger flaring on their reddened faces. They raised their guns and popped off a few shots, but the train was already out of their reach.

Heaving sighs of relief the Hardys entered the car door and were able to purchase two one-way tickets to Ploieşti, where the train was bound. They were thankful that their wallets weren't taken by the terrorists.

Once in an almost empty passenger car Joe turned to his brother. "That was too close."

"No kidding," Frank replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "How did Charity get mixed up with Assassins?"

Joe shrugged. "What in the world is Charity doing in Romania anyways?"

"She was beating around the bush about _exactly_ what she was up to, but her sister must have been into something deep if she ended up with you. Which reminds me, where _did_ you end up Joe?"

"Before or after I stumbled across Charity's sister--Grace?" Joe muttered, rubbing his forehead. He knew he had to tell Frank about the orphanage, but he also knew if his brother realized the consequences of Joe returning and potentially getting caught he'd lock him in a closet somewhere and throw away the key.

"Don't be like Charity and start explaining little brother," Frank told him firmly.

Joe nodded, looking out the wood framed window to his left and began to explain. Frank listened intently, his mind spinning at the grave details coming from his brother.

"They stared at me Frank, I had to say something, so I promised them I'd find them and help them," Joe's voice was full of emotion his brother rarely heard. He proceeded to tell him about the underground slave market, Grace, and Benjamin Ramsey.

"He said he'd find us and I told him I'd help him find his sons," Joe explained, referring to the strange encounter with Benjamin. "Though I suppose he didn't expect us to be handed over to a terrorist organization."

"Joe, I can't let you go gallivanting around Romania when Assassins _and_ slavers are looking for your head! It's just too dangerous." Frank sighed, looking at his brother's determined face.

"Frank. I promised," Joe whispered.

"You've promised me a lot of things, but you haven't kept all of them," Frank answered in an attempt to bring a smile to his younger brother's face. It didn't work.

"This is different!" Joe said narrowing his eyes, "You don't get it!"

"I get it Joe, calm down," Frank replied, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture, "I get it. I just don't think it's the best idea to try and solve this one all by ourselves."

"Well what do you suggest?" Joe asked, irritated.

Frank closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back in his seat. "I don't know."

The train rumbled along through the winding Romanian landscape as the sun set into a red and orange haze. Dusk came quickly as the boys sat in contemplative silence. Frank thought about Charity's betrayal and connection with the Assassins while Joe thought about the kids he'd unwillingly left behind.

After a while of sitting the younger Hardy began to feel restless. Without saying anything he got up, stretched and started to walk towards what he hoped was a dining car. "I'll be back," he called over his shoulder and slid open the door to the next coach.

As soon as Joe had stepped out onto the open platform between the cars he was met by the unfriendly face of a large man blocking his path. "Excuse me," Joe muttered and started to back up, but the man pulled out a small pistol and trained it on his heart.

"Slowly, back where you came from please," the man ordered, surprisingly politely. Joe did as he was told and walked back through the door, trying not to lose his footing. When they were back in the compartment, Joe saw the man hide his weapon in his coat, as to not alert anyone else sharing the same car as the Hardys.

The man guided Joe to where his brother was still sitting looking more annoyed than before. He noticed another man discreetly holding a gun on his brother from the seat behind him. Slowly Joe sat down next to Frank as his captor sat down behind him grunting territorially, keeping his gun hand shrouded but still obvious to his abductee.

Frank looked at Joe from the corner of his eye turning his head slightly. He could practically feel the anger radiating off of his brother. He turned his head another few inches and looked back at the gunmen, testing his boundaries. They said nothing and stared back at him with uninterested eyes.

"Who are you?" Frank ventured to ask, again testing the waters.

The man who'd guided Joe back into the train car smiled. "You are Frank Hardy?" Frank nodded, confused by the man's suddenly amused tone. He saw Joe fold his arms across his chest still angry but noticeably confused as well.

Before the man could answer Frank's question he saw a flicker of movement in front of them. Turning he saw a man in a gray suit walk through the door from the opposite coach.

As the man entered Frank saw his face. He was a man that if one had only seen him for a brief moment they would immediately forget him. But the Hardys recognized him, considering they'd been in touch with the man countless times.

Both brothers groaned in disbelief. It was the Gray Man.


	10. Now Just Hold Still

**Chapter 10: Now Just Hold Still  
**

The head of the Network took a seat across the aisle from the Hardys. With a brief wave of his thin hand he motioned the men behind Frank and Joe to holster their guns. The few people still seated in the compartment were six rows back from the group, so the older man spoke freely. His voice was not one to carry.

"Well, I see you've found yourself in quite a lot of trouble," Gray said, acting very blasé about the whole situation. "How long have you been in Romania? Two days?"

Joe tensed, clenching his fists but his brother laid a calming hand on his shoulder. Frank turned to the Gray Man. "How were we supposed to know the simple mission of espionage you assigned us would end up leading us to a slave ring _and _Assassins?"

"The underground slave market we had been suspicious of for years, the Assassins however we had not anticipated," Gray replied.

"We had not anticipated," Joe muttered mockingly under his breath.

"I wouldn't be so quick to talk Joseph," the Gray Man smirked, but the younger Hardy could tell he wasn't the least bit amused. "Because of you our undercover operative is in jeopardy. It has taken us eight months to infiltrate the Romanian Underground, now they realize their security has been breached and are replacing all their personnel."

"You can't blame Joe for that," Frank snapped. Gray turned to the younger man and saw a glare of defensiveness in his brown eyes. Joe looked equally as angry.

"He is the one who started this unfortunate domino effect," the Gray Man retorted, but decided not to press the matter. "I will not hold a grudge. Right now we have more important problems. Namely the Assassins. I am going to assume that Darius Radu has something to do with it, considering his current position with the organization."

"Darius Radu?" Joe asked, still annoyed. "Is he an Assassin?"

"In a way. I'm sure you've been acquainted with the man, he's the head of the Romanian Underground and an ex-field agent for the Assassins. Now he does odd jobs for them...rather than risking the alternative of retiring."

The Hardys both knew the alternative. Death. Probably cyanide or another quick acting poison. The Assassins couldn't risk any leak in their confidentiality...and didn't tolerate failure, which brought about the need for cyanide capsules in the first place.

Joe thought for a moment, then turned to his brother. "Sir," he stated surprisingly calmly.

"Yes, I believe that is what he has is subordinates refer to him as. Not many know his true identity," Gray informed them.

"What about Charity? What does she have to do with all this?" Frank asked, curious to finally get some real answers.

"Charity? I don't recall ever--"

"She's the one who sold us out to the Assassins," Joe growled, still angry with the illusive woman and her sister.

"Ah, the woman following Frank." Gray nodded.

Frank looked confused. "She was _following_ me? Wait, wait, _you_ were following me too?"

"Well, not me directly. One of our agents heard about the explosion at Valea and managed to locate you." Gray smiled slightly, "You broke out of that hospital pretty quick."

Joe turned to Frank who was coughing slightly, trying not to make eye contact with his brother. "I was fine," he muttered to the Gray Man. "So Charity was following me?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, I suppose she had previously arranged the deal with the Assassins."

"But how'd she know we were in Romania?" Joe questioned. "Do you think Charity knows about the Assassins...or just what they want her to know? I wonder how she found a job with them."

"I'm sure she joined them at her own discretion, but if there was money to be made she was probably pretty easily persuaded into helping them find us," Frank paused, "But why did they want us anyways?"

The Gray Man actually laughed. "I'm sure you're both well aware that the Assassins have a few grievances with you. However, one never knows with a group such as the Assassins. You may be seen as bargaining chips against the Network...or just an annoyance well worth getting rid of." Both brothers frowned.

"So..um, how exactly did you find us?" Joe asked.

"That's easy," Gray said, "We didn't find you, you found us." After seeing the Hardy's bewildered expressions he explained further. "After you escaped the Assassins--and I am sorry we couldn't risk helping you--" at that Joe rolled his eyes, "I assume you boarded the closest train you could. That train just happened to be the same one we were traveling on."

Gray nodded to one of the men still seated behind the boys. "Tristan spotted you. My apologies about the firearms, but it's standard procedure. We couldn't let you get off the train...just yet at least."

"Why? We already failed our mission. Apparently _I _have caused a massive hole to rip in the Network's operations! Why would you care what happens to us?" Joe was getting frustrated with the proceedings. Frank sighed and gave the Gray Man a contrite look.

The train rumbled on beneath them as the Network head contemplated his next statement. Joe, unfortunately, had a valid point. Although Arthur Gray was not an emotional man, he did feel some sort of responsibility for the two brothers. It irritated him to no end, but yet the feeling stuck with him.

"Maybe you should be put into protective custody. At least till Darius Radu decides to stop searching for Joe." Gray sat back in his seat, waiting for the response he knew was to come.

"I really don't think that's necessary--" Frank started but his brother's anger cut his words short.

"I am _not_ gonna be put into protective custody! You can't be serious! Besides, Frank and I will be back in the States in a day or so. I'm not gonna spend one more day in this bloody country!"

"I'm surprised at you Joe, you're not one to give up on a mystery," Gray said frowning. He wasn't sure why he was mentioning that half of the story, it would just come back to bite him.

"What mystery?" Joe asked angrily. "Charity's a traitor, you've got some agents working on the Underground situation by now I'm sure. There's nothing to solve."

"The Ramseys," Frank said in understanding. Joe looked at his brother, the thought of Cameron and Calvin flooding back into his mind.

"But...how do you know about the Ramseys?" Joe wondered, now quiet and cool.

"Benjamin Ramsey is an old friend and ex-agent," Gray explained, slightly hesitantly. "Unlike the Assassins, Network agents are allowed to retire without consequence. His wife died in child birth, but the twins survived. He was forced to retire or give up his kids. He took the initial option. I recently got word about his two boys, taken by Darius Radu."

"I-I met him...in the Underground," Joe told Gray, "And his sons, Cam and Cal at an orphanage before I was taken to the slave market. I promised them and Benjamin I'd find them."

"Yes, well that is not your job Joe. We'll take it from here," Gray said solemnly.

"Quit being so condescending! You just said yourself that I wasn't one to turn down a mystery!" Joe hissed. The Gray Man stared placidly into the young man's fiery blue eyes.

"I suppose that was a mistake on my part," Gray replied evenly.

Frank frowned. "Joe's right. Besides we've dealt with the Assassins before--"

"Not like Darius Radu," Gray interrupted. "Unlike me he holds a grudge forever."

"Then what good would protective custody do?" Joe yelled, trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice hushed.

"Granted, protective custody might not be the best option." The Gray Man nodded. "But I cannot allow you to get involved in this investigation."

"Too late, we're already involved," Joe smiled wickedly.

"Again, Joe's right," Frank intervened. "I don't see why our help would be such a problem."

Immediately Frank was eating his words. Joe rolled his eyes at the Gray Man's incredulous expression.

"C'mon, we're not that bad," Joe said, humor mixing with his annoyance.

"I beg to differ," the Gray Man grumbled. "In any case, I thought you didn't want to spend one more day in this 'bloody country' Joe?"

"I made a promise."

"I don't care."

"You're not the boss of us."

"Oh really--"

"Could we get back to the situation at hand?" Frank asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Joe always brought out a funny side in the Gray Man.

Joe smiled triumphantly. "We're gonna help whether you like it or not."

"Hmmmm." Gray appraised the boys for a moment then turned to the men behind them and nodded his head.

Frank and Joe turned in time to see the Network agents retrieve two sets of handcuffs from their pockets. Then they made a grab for the brothers.

* * *

**A/N:** To my knowledge the Romanian Underground doesn't exist. Hope you liked the chapter! Sorry for the delay!


	11. Are You Kidding Me?

**A/N:** Sorry that I tend to procrastinate updating sometimes...it's been a while folks! But anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing this story! I appreciate it! Here's the latest chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 11: Are You Kidding Me?  
**

Frank and Joe dived wildly into the aisle receiving dubious and frightened looks from the other passengers behind them.

"It's for your own good. Now quit making such a display," the Gray Man hissed scoldingly.

"'Quit making a display' he says." Joe rolled his eyes. "You're only trying to kidnap us."

"Not kidnapping," Gray defended. "_Protective custody_."

"I think we'll pass," Frank said. He and Joe started inching backward, still sitting on the floor of the train car.

"Don't make us use our firearms," Gray threatened unconvincingly.

As the men reached for their holsters the Hardy's jumped to their feet, Frank following Joe's impulsive lead. Although instead of heading towards the front of the train through the closest door, the brothers barreled through the Network agents and made for the back door to the second to last train compartment.

Not wanting to risk any more shocked passengers or innocent injuries the Gray Man ordered his men to disdain from using their weapons. Angrily, without using their guns, the two Network agents pursued the Hardys.

Running as fast as they could, considering the moving train under their feet, Joe and Frank made their way to the last compartment of the speeding transportation.

"What now?" Frank asked his brother, figuring, for once, he had a plan. Joe started to open the caboose door, ignoring the question. The evening air was cool and damp and a bright full moon was the only light available.

With a sly look back at Frank, Joe rocketed through the door, 360ed, making a mad display, winked over his shoulder, and jumped.

"Joe!" Frank yelled over the loud, mechanical gears of the fast moving train. "Are you insane!?"

But Joe was gone.

Hearing annoyed shouting behind him, Frank realized that he had to make a decision fast.

So he jumped, realizing he'd rather be hurt and with Joe rather than hurt and without him.

* * *

Ten minutes and a myriad of bruises later Frank met up with his brother.

"Are you kidding me?" were the first words out of his mouth. Joe blatantly ignored him and started walking along the side of the railroad tracks, heading South to the closest city.

Frank stared after him incredulously but then jogged after him. "You must be nuts! Jumping off a moving train Joe! That's one of the most reckless things you've done to date. We could have been killed!" He rubbed absently at a tender spot on his side. "I'm lucky to be in one piece...are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah," Joe replied. "'Could've gotten us killed' blah, blah, blah. I'm listening."

Noticing Joe's agitated state, Frank eased off his rant. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just _wonderful_. We're out in the middle of nowhere Romania, no idea where we're going with a bunch of bloodthirsty idiots after us!" Joe all but screamed. "For God's sake Frank, what the hell are we supposed to do now?"

"Uh, Joe, I'm not the one who chose to jump off the train," Frank said quietly.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. But I _wasn't_ gonna let us get hustled into 'protective custody.'" Joe's voice was surprisingly calm all of a sudden. He stopped suddenly, rolling his ankle. He knew it wasn't sprained considering he could still walk on it, but it hurt like hell.

"Well," Frank started, "Let's see what we've got. The Network doesn't want us messing up anymore, so they're after us. The Assassins, for a multitude of reasons, but mainly because we're a thorn in their side, are after us. An illegal Romanian slave organization who may or may not be affiliated with the _other_ illegal Romanian organization using orphanages as covers for drug deals are also after us. Does that sound about right?"

"You forgot about Charity and Grace." Joe smiled slightly.

"I can't believe Charity got involved with Assassins." Frank shook his head. "I guess she'll do anything for anyone to get what she wants."

They started walking again. "Do you think what the Gray Man said about her is true? Was she following you?" Joe asked.

His brother shrugged, watching the ground, trying not to trip on the darkly lit gravel they were hiking over. "I never know who to trust."

"Hey, you can trust me big bro." Joe grinned.

"I dunno about that. I just jumped off a moving train because of you," Frank laughed.

"Yeah, well that just proves how much you trust me doesn't it?" Joe pointed out.

Frank thought for a moment. "I guess that's true. But next time Joe, how about giving me a little warning huh? I'm gonna be sore for weeks."

Joe rubbed his shoulder and winced. "I know what you mean. No wonder you're the one who comes up with plans. These bruises are gonna be _colorful._"

* * *

The sun rose quickly from a crack on the horizon, spewing fabulous shades of fire and light. After a long nights trek the brothers had finally made it to the town of Ploieşti.

They slowly walked through the open breezeway of the Ploieşti Gara Sud, it's bright yellow stucco walls reflecting the early morning sunlight. Their train would have made it there hours ago so they didn't have much of a fear of meeting up with the Network, or at least not right away.

A couple blocks over Frank managed to rent a hotel room with his limited knowledge of Romanian and their even more limited amount of money. The room was small but clean and that's all that mattered to the Hardys. They were dead on their feet.

"You think Gray is gonna be looking for us?" Joe asked in between yawns. He flopped down onto one of the squeaky twin beds.

"Maybe. But it will be awfully hard to find us in a city this big. Plus as an added precaution I used the name 'Radu,'" Frank replied with a wry grin, though he was equally exhausted as his younger brother.

Joe smirked. "Speaking of which, are we gonna look into Darius Radu while we're here?"

"Sure, we might as well make this a full blown investigation now. What have we got to lose?" Frank smiled at his own words.

"Only the Network's trust, any form of relationship with the Romanian authorities, any chance of answers about Charity...oh and our lives," Joe answered sardonically. "Huh. Yeah, what've we got to lose?"

* * *

The University Library in Ploieşti was an enormously large, historical building filled to the brim with every book, newspaper, and computer data base one could imagine. It's curved black tiled roof, slate siding, and grand pillars added to the ancient feeling of the understatedly modern Romanian city.

In the center of the old establishment was a large high tech computer terminal. This is where the brothers found themselves typing, reading, and rummaging for the past two hours. They'd been there since seven in the morning ever since Frank had forcibly dragged his brother out of bed promising coffee and sure to be sensational clues.

"Frank, I give up," Joe huffed in exasperation, exhaustion finally overcoming his caffeinated adrenaline rush. "I haven't found a single thing bad about Darius Radu."

"Now that's not all the way true Joe. You did find _something_," was Frank's reply. A little too cryptic for the younger Hardy, especially that is was still fairly early in the morning.

"I have? What?"

"That great little breakfast place down the block." Frank grinned. "Best coffee I've ever had."

Joe smiled a little, but wasn't all that amused with his brother's joking. Although he did agree with Frank; the coffee _was_ good. "Come on, be serious here," Joe chastised uncharacteristically. "This is a waste of time. We haven't found anything!"

"_You_ may not have found anything, but _I_ have," answered, tapping on his mouse again. "Look."

Joe leaned over his brother's shoulder and stared at the article flashing on the computer screen. The newspaper was in Romanian, but then Frank brought up an English version from a British Gazette.

_Millionaire Rebuilds Orphanage_

_Wealthy resident of Bucharest, Romania, Darius Radu, lends a financial hand to rebuild the Tânara Orphanage in Constanta. Luckily no children were seriously harmed due to the many rescuers and firefighters on site. Radu is working with authorities to find the cause of the disastrous fire and is also funding the rebuilding of the now unusable orphanage. "I feel for these children and hope to give them a new and safe home," says Radu..._

Joe was too disgusted to read anymore of the article. Darius Radu was glorifying himself through burning down his own evidence. He was not only using orphanages as a cover for his operations, he was also using them to portray himself as a upstanding and selfless citizen.

"Okay, we have no choice now. We _have_ to bust this guy," Joe fumed.

"I hate to admit it, but I agree," Frank nodded grimly. "No matter how, we've gotta solve this case...and not get killed at the same time."

* * *

ps...I figure we all realize by now that the Hardys are invincable, right? So what's the harm of them jumping from a moving train? ;)


	12. A Terrifying View of Paris

**A/N:** Hey guys...sorry about that _long_ wait! But hopefully this chapter will make up for it...and trust me, I will try to update sooner this time and not keep you in suspense...

* * *

**Chapter 12: A Terrifying View of Paris  
**

"Alright, so where do we go from here?" Joe asked while Frank continued to sift through computer documents. He didn't answer and Joe realized that he was distracted by another article.

"France," the older boy finally said. Joe looked at him quizzically.

"France?"

"Paris to be exact," Frank replied turning to face his brother. "Darius Radu is speaking at a business conference there tomorrow night."

Slowly a smile crept onto Joe's face. "France, huh?"

* * *

Three hours later, by way of emergency travelers checks Frank and Joe had purchased new clothes and two one way tickets to Paris, France. The airplane was comfortable enough with only one plane change in Hungary, but still Joe was eager to reach their destination.

While the younger Hardy occupied himself with the meager scenery of clouds outside his window, Frank was busy reading and re-reading the many articles he had printed out in the Ploieşti Library, Darius Radu being the center topic of each. Currently he was skimming a piece detailing a fundraiser the Romanian man had sponsored recently. Next to him his brother was murmuring something.

"Frank, I've been thinking. Wonder if Radu _isn't_ involved in all this racket. I mean, can we _really_ trust Gray?" Joe was rambling. Frank wasn't paying attention.

Joe stared at him, his brother was intently engrossed in the journalistic words proving Radu to be a high quality man and not a condemned one.

"Do you really think he's with the Assassins? Maybe _he_ had ties with Charity," Joe said, a little louder this time, hoping to find his brother was in fact listening.

"Hey, Frank!" Joe snapped his fingers.

"I don't know," Frank answered. He'd heard every word. "Radu appears clean cut. But I think we can trust the Gray Man. Besides you saw the man yourself Joe, and your memory of him fits the pictures in these newspaper clippings. And what about Ramsey? Gray wouldn't make something like that up. I wouldn't jump to too many unnecessary conclusions."

Joe sighed. His brother had a way of popping holes in his balloons with his logic, especially if those balloons were suspicions.

The rest of the plane ride was quiet, except for the occasional complaint from Joe about the fact that he couldn't understand how his brother could sit so still for so long without _doing anything._

When they arrived 1,166 miles away in France a little over two hours later the Paris terminal was bustling with what the Hardys assumed was tourist traffic. After customs, Joe caught on fast, barreling through the crowds towards the exit like many Paris residents and sight seers were doing. Frank was slightly more tentative. By the time they reached the streets of the grand city, the crowds were thinning.

"Where to now?" Joe wondered as he and Frank jogged across a narrow cobblestone street. They had managed to more or less come out of a slightly less crowded exit that led to a smaller part of the airport-centered bit of Paris. They passed a flower vendor, small bakery and many people milling about chatting in rapid French.

"Hôtel de la Paix. It's a hotel on Caillou, just up the street, near the Eiffel Tower," Frank replied in a low voice. He wasn't sure but he thought he could see a familiar face in his peripheral vision. Someone he'd seen on the plane and in the airport. But his subconscious reminded him of the warning he'd given to his brother about unnecessary suspicions, so he focused on what Joe was saying, but picked up the pace.

"So, do you have a plan?" asked Joe, jogging to keep up with his brother's suddenly quick gait.

"First we need to get to where we're going, then we can worry about formulating a plan," Frank responded, looking over his shoulder. But he wasn't looking at Joe, he was looking past him. Joe's head spun around but he didn't see anything of importance other than the various people they were passing.

Joe's face screwed up into a confused scowl. This wasn't Frank's usual behavior at all. His brother _always_ had some sort of a plan...maybe not always the most fool-proof plan, but a plan nonetheless. There was never a "wait and see what happens" time period for the older Hardy.

"Frank?" His brother's eyes drifted backwards not making any eye contact with Joe again. "Is something wrong?"

"No." The response was entirely unconvincing.

"What're you looking at? Are we being followed or something?" Joe asked urgently, still not seeing anything out of the ordinary behind them. Although it was hard to pick out what was ordinary when one was in a foreign country.

"Or something," Frank said vaguely. He turned his attention back to the small street signs of the open market they were trudging through, and guiding his little brother to the hopefully safe hotel.

"Frank, you are so _weird_ sometimes." Joe had apparently had enough of trying to figure out what Frank seemed to be so interested in and was now acting as though the jet lag was finally catching up to him.

Frank smiled to himself. Joe might have considered his brother's actions 'weird' but he'd be thankful for them if Frank's suspicions were confirmed...which of course he hoped they wouldn't be.

"Hey," Frank said, catching up with Joe, who had now started to take the lead. "After we check into the hotel we should check out the Tower. We're in Paris after all, why waist the trip on _only_ catching the bad guys?"

Joe, who was stifling a yawn, nodded his consent, clearly already forgetting Frank's bizarre behavior. Though Frank couldn't say the same for himself. A strange feeling of intuition still lingered in the back of his mind as they rounded the street of Caillou. There was definitely something peculiar going on.

* * *

After the Hardys had arrived at Hôtel de la Paix and found the room to be quite comfortable Frank was able to finally relax. He let Joe sack out for a while seeing as how exhausted he seemed to be suddenly and decided to replay the last few day's events in his head, in hopes of seeing something important he might have missed.

After the explosion at the orphanage they had been investigating Joe had been taken by Darius Radu--or someone who looked very much like him. As of now, Joe was on extremely bad terms with Radu and his men, and he and Frank were also in major trouble with the Assassins. Not to mention the Network, which was surly still on the look out for them, considering their great dislike of the Hardys 'unsupervised meddling.' There was also the matters of Charity, her sister, Grace, and a certain man by the name of Benjamin Ramsey, whose two children Joe had met and _promised_ to save.

Joe and Frank had certainly been through a hell of a lot in such a short period of time.

Frank thought for a moment that leaving the whole thing up to the Network might not have been such a bad idea...though that thought was quickly dashed from his mind as he remembered how determined Joe was about finding those twins, Cam and Cal. But surely the Network would be able to help them easily?...that thought was also erased quickly, for obvious reasons.

Shortly after Frank had sat down and Joe had crashed on one of the room's twin beds, the younger Hardy opened his eyes, slowly glancing around the room as if trying to remember where he was. Eventually is sleepy eyes landed on Frank and he became instantly full of awakened energy.

"So, are we gonna go play tourist?" he asked, standing up and stretching out his six foot frame. The tips of his fingers brushed against the ceiling as he stretched his arms over his head due to the exceedingly low ceilings.

"Sure...I mean if you want to," Frank responded.

"Of course. Like you said, we're in Paris, might as well," Joe nodded, smiling. "Won't Vanessa and Callie be jealous."

"Hey, we're not going shopping...just to the Eiffel Tower, not the Champs Elysées, where those two would probably spend their whole life savings," Frank answered, laughing.

"True." Joe grinned as the brothers left their small, quiet hotel room behind for the bustling nighttime of Paris.

* * *

Paris, in Joe's opinion, was much prettier at night than in the daylight. Every shop and street lamp was lit up with glowing amber light and the streets were slightly less crowded as they were earlier. It was much easier to maneuver now that they had a clear path to walk through.

Frank on the other hand, while enjoying the Paris evening as well, was just glad that he hadn't spotted anyone familiar following them or waiting outside their hotel.

As the brothers approached the Eiffel Tower, which was much larger than either of them imagined, they walked first through the gardens and topiaries that surrounded it, and to one of the elevators that took many tourists everyday up to the highest platform. Joe finally spoke up.

"So earlier when we left the airport, what were you so worried about?" he wondered, trying to ignore the queasiness in his stomach caused by the rapid elevator, which was empty except for themselves.

"It was nothing...just being paranoid, I guess," Frank replied hesitantly, still not sure if it was paranoia or good instincts at this point. He shook his head, mainly to himself and said, "I'm sure it was nothing. I just thought for a second that we were being tailed."

"Tailed, huh?" Joe pondered. "Who do you think would know we're here? The Network? The Assassins? I don't think Radu would know...but I guess he could have sent someone to follow me..."

Frank was about to respond to Joe's open ended queries when the elevator doors slid open to reveal two very unhappy looking men. One of them Frank recognized as the man who _was_ in fact following them that afternoon. One good thought flew through Frank's mind, _at least I'm not going mad._

"Can we help you?" Joe asked irritably as he stepped off the elevator. The fact that the men didn't back up to give him more space didn't seem to help with his attitude. Unlike Frank he had no idea that these guys were definitely enemies.

Frank stepped out of the elevator as well, feigning confidence, and started to study the men's faces. He couldn't tell if they were Romanian, considering how dimly lit the platform was, but they sure looked unfriendly and towered over both Hardys menacingly. It also seemed, to their unfortunate luck, that the top of the Eiffel Tower was deserted, just like their elevator had been.

Frank looked over at his brother as realization hit Joe smack in the face as one of the thugs began to crack his knuckles mockingly. He smiled to reveal several glinting gold teeth. "Um...we were just leaving," Joe said, starting to back up.

"But you only just arrived," the man closest to Joe said, pulling Joe towards him strongly by the arm. Frank had only a few seconds to surmise that the man's accent was neither American nor Romanian which basically left one choice. They had to be pure Assassins.

Frank lashed out at the man holding onto his brother but the other Assassin's foot caught around his ankle and he went down hard. Frank's breathing slowed and he tried to push up with trembling hands but a massive hand gripped him around the neck and lifted him to his feet. He saw Joe for a second, his nose bleeding profusely, trying to get in at least one good punch at his sizable opponent, but was soon only seeing stars as he was thrown violently across the platform, the back of his skull coming into contact with a metal support beam.

Joe, who had witnessed the horrible display, was now fighting without tactfulness but with fury. He didn't care if his punches were aimed perfectly, or if his kicks were fair. He had to get to Frank.

But he had already suffered a bleeding nose, what would soon be a black eye, a possible concussion, and multiple bruises about his abdomen which would blend nicely with the ones already there from his extravagant train jumping just a day before. The Assassin was not bothering to cause anymore damage to him, however. He just held both his arms back, to hinder his fighting ability, though Joe was sufficiently dizzy by now and didn't have much fight left in him anyways.

All Joe cared about now was Frank.

His brother was laying frighteningly still under his attackers large shadow. Joe couldn't tell how hard Frank had hit his head. Had it been enough to...kill him?

It didn't matter to the Assassin if Frank was dead of alive, though. He roughly kicked the prone body's side and when the older Hardy gave no response, the man smiled devilishly. He then lifted Frank's unmoving body to an open portion of the Eiffel's railing.

"No!!" Joe had begun to struggle again, the Assassin holding him was grunting with exertion. He might have been stronger, but Joe was much more willful.

The man holding Frank turned back to Joe and gave him an awful grin, relishing in the fear and anger that marred Joe's face.

The Assassin jerked Frank's body over the edge and Joe gave an anguished sob as he saw his brother fall to a sure death a thousand feet below.


	13. Thin Air

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! Hope this chapter is up to snuff...I think I'm going cliffhanger crazy..:)

p.s. - I added chapter names just for fun...

* * *

**Chapter 13: Thin Air  
**

Joe stared unwillingly at the open space of air his brother had just fallen through. He couldn't see over the edge of the Tower because of the Assassin still gripping his arms firmly, but the aching in his heart was enough for him.

Frank was dead, and now Joe was facing two ruthlessly irate Assassins, unable to think clearly, unable to defend himself, and unable to feel a single thing in his numbing body but rage.

* * *

Though if Joe _was_ able to see over the edge he would know that, in fact, Frank was far from dead. Although he would be soon if he made one wrong move.

Frank was holding precariously to the edge of the platform he had just been carelessly thrown from, having regained consciousness in the nick of time. He tried desperately to cling to the metal above him and at the same time find his footing on a beam bellow him.

Frank was thoroughly exhausted once he'd found a strong hold and could relax his muscles just a bit. But really he was tired not from trying to hang on, but from the concussion he was sure to have received from his unfortunate collision. He was also still suffering from the after effects of being unconscious for several long seconds and had a burning, bruised feeling in his side.

"Geezus..." Frank was trying to take slow, deep breaths while repeating the same livid mantra in his mind: _don't look down, don't look down. Don't. Look. Down._

The wind at this altitude was cold and strong, making it harder to hold on with his weak arms. But after gaining what little strength was left to regain, Frank decided that hanging here on the edge of the Eiffel Tower was, for one thing, hazardous to his heath (though that was fairly obvious). But for another thing, it could also be hazardous to _Joe's_ health.

So, after a moment of semi-contemplativeness Frank let go with his right hand and reached out steadily to grab hold of the dark metal railing above his head. Making sure his grip was firm on the baluster, he slowly moved his left hand into position on a similar railing, just above his right.

This was going to be the tough part. With all his upper body strength he pulled himself up until he was dangling above the city of Paris. He then braced his feet on the platform, inched his hands to the top of the railing, and silently pulled himself over until he had landed on solid ground.

He let out a sigh of relief, but his eyes were slowly drawn up to a large ruckus by the elevator. Joe Hardy was fighting like a demon. The two Assassins, though considerably much larger than him were having quite the time trying to wrestle him towards the waiting elevator.

Joe was heaving all of his body weight backwards into the Assassins, while he stretched his legs in front of himself as leverage. It was quite the comical scene, that is if one subtracted the 'danger or possible death' from the whole situation.

Frank also noticed that as the men grappled with his brother, they really didn't have the option to reach for their gun holsters--which were a given accessory with the Assassins. He knew, however, that Joe couldn't hold his own for much longer. He might have gotten a burst of vengeful adrenaline, but it was sure to wear off sometime.

Silently Frank got to his feet, making sure that he _was _truly alive, and then set off to help his brother. Joe, who was by now fighting a losing battle, had almost given in to being dragged into the open elevator.

Thankfully for Frank his brother and both Assassins had their backs to him and all three assumed that he was now lying at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. Going with his impulses, considering that a logical plan would take far too long to think through, he grabbed the man that had decided to give him flying lessons against his will, spun him around and with a powerful right hook, knocked him flat on his back, looking dazed.

Three minutes, a few extra bruises, and a happily shocked little brother later, Frank found himself sitting in an elevator looking back at two unconscious Assassins through the closing doors.

"Frank! I thought you were dead! When I saw you go over the edge, I...I just--" Joe was clearly not out of energy anymore. "I was seriously losing it."

"I know what you mean. I thought I was dead too," Frank answered with a small smile. Unlike Joe, his fatigue was finally catching up with him. Frank rubbed the back of his head where an angry bump was forming, he winced. Joe, realizing his brother's injuries--clearly unaware of his own--stopped his excited rant.

"You gonna be okay bro? Maybe we should, you know, find a hospital?" Joe was now entirely speaking out of character. But when it came to Frank's safety he would brave anything...even a trip to the emergency room.

"I think we might be in over our heads," Frank replied blandly, ignoring his brother's concern. "I mean, look at you," he said, pointing to the livid bruises on Joe's face. "And I almost ended up in the morgue. Maybe this isn't such a good idea Joe...maybe we _should_ leave it up to the Network."

Frank was finally voicing his earlier apprehensive thoughts. But by the look on Joe's face, Frank knew he wasn't having any of it. He readied himself for his younger brother's enraged revolt.

"You're just willing to give up?" Joe's voice was surprisingly even and calm. "After everything we've already done? It's not like the Assassins are gonna stop holding a grudge against us if we quit this case. And unless Radu is caught or killed--which is probably highly unlikely--then he isn't gonna let any of this go either. Like Gray said, he holds a grudge _forever_. And what about those kids Frank? You know they're not on the top of the Network's list. I can't have that hanging over me for the rest of my life."

Joe finished his composed, yet heated monologue by crossing his arms childishly in front of him. It was a very contrary action to his mature speech. Frank sighed and rolled his eyes as they both felt the elevator come to a halt. The doors slid open and Frank stood up.

"I'm just trying to protect you Joe," he said softly. Frank held out a hand to his brother. "But if that's how you feel about it, I guess I'm not gonna stop you. Whad'ya say we find a new hotel, it's still not too late to order some room service."

Joe's eyes brightened. "So what's our next move?" he wondered, taking Frank's offered hand. The brothers walked out into the night, staring up at the Eiffel Tower looming over them.

"Well, we came here to find Darius Radu," Frank explained with a wincing grin, rubbing his side painfully. "So let's pay him a little visit."

* * *

Joe was thoroughly disgusted with the proceedings of the business conference his brother had somehow smuggled them into. Some phony press badges could work wonders.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered towards Frank, pulling his baseball cap lower over simmering blue eyes. Frank had insisted that Joe at least wear somewhat of a disguise to the conference, considering Radu recognized him, and being that his blond hair was his most distinguishing feature, Joe had tried to hide it as much as possible under a hat. He wasn't totally convinced it was working.

"Radu makes me sick. How can he stand up there talking about himself like that...all righteous and high and mighty," Joe fumed. Frank was standing silently next to him, listening intently to what Radu was saying, even though it made him feel ill as well.

Darius Radu was a formidable man. His brown hair was thinning, but slicked back with slightly too much gel and his light blue eyes barely even reflected any light in the large room. He actually did have a sort of 'vile' look to him.

When Radu started to speak with broken English intently about the orphanage rebuild he was supporting, Joe just about lost it. But Frank managed to hold him back from throwing himself at the podium Darius was standing behind.

"You've got to calm down Joe," Frank whispered to him. "Blowing our cover _isn't _going to help."

"I know, I know." Joe was rubbing the bridge of his nose irritably. "I need some air," he said, impulsively stalking away from his brother and pushing his way towards a small corridor housing the nearest exit. Joe was already disappearing down the hallway before Frank even realized what was going on.

_God, he's fast,_ Frank thought wryly to himself, setting a brisk pace to keep up with his brother, while still trying to listen to what Darius Radu was saying. Frank knew that letting his hotheaded little brother walk around alone at a conference most likely crawling with Radu's men was _not_ a wise choice.

Frank caught a glimpse of Joe's back as the younger Hardy slipped through what he could only assume was a back-alley exit. Exasperated with Joe's hasty emotions, Frank pushed through the door mere seconds after his brother had.

But when he reached the sunset-lit alleyway Joe was not there. In fact _no one_ was there. The only thing Frank could see was the black baseball cap Joe had been wearing only moments before laying on the dirty cement beneath his feet.


	14. Habitual and Hapless

A/N: Thanks for your reviews guys! Hope this chapter is alright...the story is finally winding down so there will be lots happening in the next couple chapters! So keep your eyes peeled!

p.s. - 5 days until Harry Potter 6! I'm counting down guys! :) lol

* * *

**Chapter 14: Habitual and Hapless  
**

Frank was running hard towards the end of the alleyway, where it met the street.

"Joe!?" he called, hoping that his brother was just being careless and hadn't noticed that his cap was gone. But the reckless blond was no where in sight.

"How could he have disappeared that fast?" Frank wondered solemnly to himself. He looked up and down the street, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, just a police car waiting at a traffic light.

* * *

Meanwhile Joe Hardy was unmitigatedly enraged.

How many times had he found himself in a situation similar to this one in the past few days? Was it even humanly possible to be kidnapped this frequently in such a small amount of time? At least this time he wasn't in the back of a musty old truck.

Joe found himself in the comfortable--if one could call it that with gun barrels in between your ribs--back seat of a nondescript French police car. His hands were cuffed behind his back and his fists were clenched. How had Darius Radu known where he was?

Joe cleared his throat. "So, um, where are we going?"

"No questions. No talking," was his answer from the Romanian man on his left. He recognized him as one of Radu's guards in the Romanian Underground. Well this was not looking good.

* * *

Frank Hardy was almost as infuriated as his brother.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he thought irritably to himself. "How could I have been so stupid? Letting Joe go off by himself in such a blustering, careless mood?"

"It's not your fault Frank," came a monotone voice from behind him. "If you'd been with him you would have been taken as well...or worse, killed."

Frank turned around, sighing. The Gray Man and two Network agents were staring placidly in his direction. "How'd you find us--_me_?"

"I've had men following you and your brother ever since your _hasty_ exit in Romania," Gray responded, a slight annoyance in his voice.

"You were trailing us the whole time? And you didn't bother to help with our little run in with the Assassins at a thousand feet above Paris?" Frank asked, heatedly.

"We caught the two you left lying around up there, Frank. Just think of it as a favor to us. We're currently trying to get information about any association with Radu out of them."

"Joe and I could have gotten killed--"

"A risk we just _had_ to take," Gray interrupted smugly. "Speaking of your brother--"

It was Frank's turn to interrupt. "Joe's been taken by Darius Radu." It wasn't a question.

"Fairly certain," said Gray.

"We've got to go after them. This is just the break the Network needs, right?" Frank was playing to Gray's preferences. "If we find Joe, we find Radu."

"True." Frank could see wheels turning in the Gray Man's head. "Very true."

* * *

The police car traveled outside of the city at a fast speed. It only took a little over an hour to reach their destination--or at least as far as Joe could tell. They were using many odd streets, possibly to make sure they weren't being followed.

"Where are we?" Joe ventured to wonder when they got out of the car. All three Romanians ignored him, instead focusing their attention on dragging him closer to a neglected looking building in front of them. It had a ramshackle tile roof, a few shattered windows and some crumbling cinder blocks around the base. It looked oddly like one of the many orphanages he had currently been acquainted with as of late.

"You don't have to be so rough," Joe muttered, trying to wrench his arm out of an iron grip.

The sky was fairly dark as the group trudged across a dirt lot toward the worn down building. Joe was doing calculations in his head. He had about a two percent chance of getting out of the clutching hands of his captors. But he had an even lower chance of running across the open ground without getting caught, shot, or murdered.

Realizing he had no other means of escape, Joe mentally shrugged and tensed his muscles. With all his strength he elbowed the man holding his arm in the stomach, doubling him over, and before the other two could realize what had just happened, Joe was off.

He was running fast, hard, and determinedly. A cover of trees and untamed shrubs were just a few yards ahead of him. He was nearly there.

But a gunshot rang out, thickening the silent night with it's crack.

Joe felt a pain course through his body, making his breath pause a moment, then he stumbled forward.

* * *

Frank was intent on finding his brother, but he was surprised at how intent Arthur Gray was as well.

Though finding Joe was beneficial to the Network, the Gray Man seemed to sympathize with Frank, which seemed to be utterly out of the character, but not unwelcome from the older Hardy.

"Did you really think me ignorant enough to not send anyone after the car that took your brother, Frank?" Gray asked, rather obnoxiously. Frank was very glad of the man's help, but he didn't see any need for arrogance.

"No," Frank replied flatly.

"We will find Joe and capture Radu without a hitch," Gray said, slightly less superior now.

"Without a hitch? You can't just go barging in there...wherever 'there' is...and go shooting and capturing these Assassins or whatever they may be. Joe's life is in the balance here," Frank argued, trying not to sound too desperate. The current situation was making him overly stressed.

He and the Gray Man were in the back seat of a nondescript black car, traveling at a relatively smooth speed along the back streets of Paris. Frank, slightly annoyed, Gray, slightly annoy_ing_.

"We will stay somewhere close by over night and then go _'barging in'_ in the early morning. Hopefully Mr. Radu will not be expecting any visitors," the Gray Man explained as if it was common sense.

But as they drove along in silence, Frank's mind was hard at work formulating a much _better_, suitable plan that wouldn't affect Joe's life.

* * *

Joe landed on the ground heavily. He wished severely that his hands could have been free so that he could clutch the throbbing, bleeding wound on his left shoulder. It was a flesh wound, but it seared with a stinging twinge.

Joe opened his blurring eyes wide and gasped for a breath. Amidst the surprising pain he had somehow forgotten to breathe. The bullet wound was raw and bloody, but certainly not fatal. For a second Joe struggled to get to his feet, thinking he could still escape, but his attempts were thwarted by seizing, angry hands.

He was dragged forward, barely resisting. He was still in shock and his energy wasn't at full throttle anymore. A small pit of fear formed in his stomach, unsure of what was to come next. There had to be a reason he was still alive.

"Young Joseph." His name sounded oddly unfamiliar when spoken with such a heavy Romanian accent. Darius Radu was staring appraisingly down at Joe, as the blond was thrust through the door frame and into a wide, cement covered space. How Radu had arrived here so quickly after the conference was beyond Joe.

He was pulled down a narrow hallway, and into a small, darkly lit room, Radu leading the way. The pit of dread grew slightly larger. He was made to sit up against a rough, stone wall at the end of the tiny chamber.

All but one Romanian guard left Joe and Radu, who was now leaning uncomfortably close to his prisoner. "I missed on purpose." His accent lifted some as he spoke fairly fluent English. Joe said nothing.

"I am not liking you very much," Radu whispered, his icy blue eyes boring into Joe's brighter ones. "My mother vas American. I never like her much either."

Joe wasn't sure what Radu was getting at, but decided his silence wasn't hurting anything, so he continued to stare blankly at the Romanian.

"I vill ask you a question now," Radu said, seemingly ignoring Joe's lack of response. "Are you familiar vith Mr. Arthur Gray...vith the Network?"

Joe held his tongue. As much as he wanted to retort, he realized that that was just what the man wanted. But Darius Radu wasn't taking any of it. His callused hand grabbed hold of Joe's chin, slamming his head backwards into the wall. "Answer."

"No," Joe responded finally through gritted teeth. A headache breached the back of his skull and by now he was seeing red.

"I do not like liars," Radu growled, releasing Joe's jaw. "Vladimir," he explained, pointing to the guard behind them, "sees your brother vith Mr. Gray. I find unlikely that you do not know this Gray."

"Well, I don't." Joe knew he was treading thin ice.

"This is nice, clean cut," said Radu as he examined the gash in Joe's shoulder. It had finally numbed over with pain, but blood was still bubbling slowly down his arm. Radu clasped his hand around the wound firmly and relentlessly.

Joe gasped as a pang of discomfort ran down to the tips of his fingers. Radu tried again. "You are in contact with head of Network, yes?" He squeezed the slashed flesh harder for emphasis.

"Yes," was Joe's only response. Radu loosened his grip and grinned maliciously. "That is better."

"They vill follow you...try and find you, yes?" Joe knew exactly what Radu was getting at now.

"No. The Network...won't take unnecessary risks to save me," Joe told him, his mind hazed with pain and rage.

"Yes? But your brother vill." Radu's smile widened and Joe knew that unfortunately he was exactly right.


	15. If At First

**A/N: **Sorry about the wait guys...but hope this chapter makes up for it! I'm really into cliffies if anyone hasn't noticed already ;)

* * *

**Chapter 15: If at First **

Midnight came slowly for Frank Hardy, but the wait was necessary. The plan that had been brewing inside his head since his meeting with the Gray Man did, after all, require the cover of night. The only problem facing him now was the armed Network agent currently standing guard outside his tent.

After arriving in a fairly overgrown, rural area outside of the city of Paris, a stark contrast indeed, Mr. Gray had conjured up a temporary campsite less than a mile away from the rundown orphanage that supposedly held Darius Radu and Joe Hardy.

Gray had said the alternating guards were precaution against the Assassins, but Frank knew otherwise. Seeing as how he had made his escape from the protection of the Network before, the agents and guns were not only there for security, but to keep him from leaving too early from under their watchful eye.

Even a Mr. Benjamin Ramsey, whom Frank felt to be slightly over friendly to the point of pretentious, had arrived at their covert camp. Apparently the ex-Network man would be aiding Gray in the capture of Radu, seeing as how he had some personal stake in the whole operation. Frank felt greatly remorseful for the man, considering his children had been taken from him for such a long time now. But still Ramsey managed to rub him the wrong way. Maybe it was the reproachfully kind way he spoke about Joe, or just a certain gleam in the Brit's dark eyes.

But right now, Frank sat still, quiet, and complacent as his plan turned from mere thoughts to manifested action. With a slight inkling of guilt and a hint of anxiety in his stomach Frank inched forward towards the mountainous shadow reflected on his tent by the faint moonlight. Taking an inaudibly deep breath he pulled the tent's makeshift door open, moving slowly and deliberately. In a flash of strength and adrenaline he brought the Network guard down with a single calculated chop to his neck.

Frank sighed raggedly, staring down at the unconscious agent, knowing the easy part was finished, and hoping his apparent good luck would stick with him through the night.

* * *

Regrettably, good fortune wasn't running freely that night.

Darius Radu had reluctantly and poorly bandaged Joe's shallow, but throbbing bullet wound with dressings that, by the look of them, were less than sanitary. Though the blood had stopped flowing openly, the gash still stung whenever Joe attempted to move his cuffed arm.

Radu had been very hesitant in providing any medical attention to Joe, but had informed him that it was not in good nature, but purely for his own benefit. For one, he preferred not to make a mess of his storage room and for another, he couldn't allow Joe to bleed to death before his vengeful plan came full circle.

So now, while Frank was tracking his way though the forest outside, Joe was attempting any form of distraction from his lack of escape, blood, energy, and time. Finding that if he strained his ears and concentrated on nothing else, he could make out some broken conversation between Radu and his guard Vladimir outside his cell door.

"--baiatul fratelui va incerca sa-l liber--"

Joe could translate a few words here and there, enough to make some sense of the discussion. He knew that 'fratele' meant brother and 'liber' sounded a lot like liberate, or free. In theory Radu was talking about Frank coming to rescue his brother.

Joe's insides squirmed uncomfortably. It was his own hotheaded clumsiness that had gotten him into this situation and now it was pulling Frank along with him. He found it so unfair that Darius Radu and the Assassins seemed to always be one step ahead of them.

The door opened in front of him, letting in a sliver of golden light from the hallway outside. Radu followed the light, creating a large shadow as he loomed over Joe's scrunched figure.

"Your Gray Man thinks he is quite intelligent," Radu said in a low, resonating voice. He spoke in a cross, but arrogant tone. Joe chose to ignore the Romanian's taunting. "I do not like cat and mouse game."

He kneeled down in front of Joe, who averted his eyes, trying to hide any emotions of fatigue, anger, and most importantly fear. Seeing as how his captor's reactions were what predominately fueled Radu's horrid spirit, this did not please him at all.

Radu's thin lips formed a grim line as he pressed them together in a thoughtful frown. "I am aware that your elder brother is making his way to this building as we speak. What is your American saying? 'Kill two birds vith one stone?'" He smiled now, pleased with himself.

"Don't," Joe muttered, still not looking up at the simpering man before him. "Don't touch him."

"Do you think your begging vill save Frank?" Radu seemed generally curious, in a nauseating sort of way.

Joe finally looked up, his features stained with exhausted rage. "I'm not _begging_ for his life...You already have me what do you want Frank for. He has done nothing to you."

"I see. You are bargaining. You, Joseph, may not think your brother is worth anything to me, but that is not the case," Radu sighed exasperatedly.

"I don't understand--" Joe said desperately through gnashed teeth. But reasoning with Radu was like trying to stop a charging bull; it just wasn't happening.

"You do not need to understand. That is not why you are here."

"Then why--?"

"Enough questions. I am through vith you for now Joseph." Radu stood up, physically ending the path for the conversation to continue. Joe's eyes followed his movements, his stomach tensing and a rush of unease crawling through him. Radu smiled down mirthlessly towards him pulling a wrinkled looking bandanna from his pocket.

* * *

Frank absently brushed a tree branch out of his face, his eyes staring intensely into the inky black night ahead of him. He was glad that stealth was an easy advantage for him at the moment, being that it was the middle of the night and most people in the establishment he currently was working to infiltrate--_alone_ no less--should be asleep.

He breathed deeply through his nose focusing on the silhouetted building less than twenty yards in front of him. It was an easy task--in theory. But he had to get Joe and get the hell out of there before dawn when the Network planned to storm the place.

With renewed purpose and fortitude Frank walked forward, sticking close to the shadows and dark crevices. He figured there would be guards, but when he neared the apparent entrance to the old orphanage it was suspiciously empty. The door was even open.

He grasped the ancient knob slowly, his stomach churning nervously now. This wasn't good. Either the Network was wrong about where Radu and Joe were, or this was a very dire mistake.

The door creaked open. Sweat forming on his neck and his fingertips giving the slightest tremble, he pushed the door open slightly wider. Frank was met only with eerie darkness. This _really_ wasn't good.

By now Frank felt that maybe the Network _was_ at fault. It wasn't like they couldn't make mistakes. They might have been extreme, highly trained secret agents, but they were all still human. Gray had been wrong before...right?

Frank let out the small breath he had been holding and took one cautious step inside the orphanage. Dust and a musty, rotting smell assaulted his nose. It was definitely a very old building, why would anyone want to use it as headquarters? It was very clandestine, but certainly not too hospitable.

He slunk down a narrow hallway. There was only one door to choose, so he took a chance and turned the unlocked handle.

Frank took a careful step. Then one more. Then stopped dead.

His wavering gaze landed on a solitary figure, sitting bound and gagged against the wall, a terrified spark in his blue eyes. He was shaking his head as violently as possible, though it looked very painful and Frank could see a crimson soaked bandage wrapped crudely around his arm.

A strong hand landed on the small of Frank's back and pushed him forward.

He stumbled, letting out a gasp of surprise as he fell to his hands and knees, not prepared for the assault. He pushed with all his strength, leaping up in seconds and spinning around to face his attacker. But still he wasn't ready. The back of a large hand hit his jaw, whipping his head around. Frank's eyes misted over with pain and shock.

The hand now grabbed his neck, pushing him forward once again, but this time toward the other prisoner in the small room. Frank, overcoming some of his drowsiness tried to elbow his attacker in the stomach, but the man was too fast, he threw the boy sprawling to the ground, where Frank's skull made contact with the cracking cement and his eyes rolled back in his head.

The last thing he was aware of was the guilt ridden face of Joe Hardy.


	16. You Don't Succeed

**Chapter 16: You Don't Succeed**

Frank thought he could hear someone calling his name...but that couldn't be right...could it?

"Frank? C'mon...Can you hear me?"

It was getting louder now...and more familiar...he recognized that voice.

"Frank! Frank _wake up!"_

Frank's eyes finally fluttered open. He saw Joe through a haze of pain in his head. His brother had worked the gag out of his mouth and was staring at Frank with a panicked look in his bloodshot, blue eyes.

"Joe," Frank rasped. His gaze landed on the reddened bandage wrapped around Joe's bicep. "Your arm."

"A scratch," Joe answered, brushing off Frank's concern. The older Hardy regarded the blond with an incredulous look. Joe grinned half heartedly. "Sorry you found me Frank."

Frank shook his head as best as he could and tried to push himself into a sitting position, despite the rough cords binding his hands behind his back. "Don't apologize. It was my plan and it went wrong because of my own actions."

"I won't apologize, if you don't blame yourself," Joe smiled grimly. "Radu knew you were coming, he knows Gray and the Network is out there. He has to have some sort of inside connection, but I've yet to figure anything out." Joe sighed heavily.

"This case just keeps getting more and more complicated," Frank said, twisting his wrists to test the strength of the ropes. "I think I have some slack."

"Good. 'Cause these things aren't gonna be a snap to get off," Joe replied, referring to the handcuffs digging into his skin. Frank returned Joe's dizzy looking smirk.

After a few minutes of struggling, while listening to Joe's explanation of what had happened to him after walking out of Radu's speech, Frank finally managed to work the bindings off.

"Great, now what?" Joe asked, some hopefulness working it's way past the near ever present discomfort in his expression. Frank beamed at him, digging a small lock pick out of the rubber underneath the soul of his shoe. Several more minutes later Joe was freed as well, though now Frank was starting to make much more of a fuss of the 'scratch' on his arm.

"It's really okay, Frank," Joe huffed, trying to hide his wincing as his brother took a closer look at the bullet wound. Frank rolled his eyes, but considering there wasn't much he could do at the moment stopped aggravating Joe.

"C'mon, doors open." Joe, having bypassed his worried brother, tested the old knob. Frank stood next to his brother as the door silently opened. They were both glad to see that Radu had neglected to add any security outside of their makeshift prison.

"This way...they've got to be this way," Joe whispered hoarsely, motioning his older brother to follow him. Frank, though anxious to leave the premises as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, followed after Joe in slight confusion.

"What's this way?" he asked, still on Joe's heels mainly to keep the younger boy from falling over; Joe's skin was a sickening pallor and he looked weak. But Frank knew determination was overriding any fatigue Joe may have been feeling.

"The kids." was Joe's only response.

Frank looked at him for a moment, disbelief marring his face. How could he have forgotten about the orphans? Of course they would be here as well. It all made sense now, and Frank was starting to feel just as determined about helping those children as well, even if he had never met them before.

"Here." Joe pointed to a solid looking door with a lock on it, similar to the one in Romania. Joe took a deep breath. "This has to be it. Can you open this Frank?"

"We'll see." Frank set to work on the lock while Joe kept a vigilant watch, but all seemed to be quiet around the decrepit orphanage. It was just as eerie as when Frank had first entered the building. He worked, concentrating hard on the task at hand. "Wasn't too bad," Frank finally muttered quietly, pulling back his lock pick after a clear click sounded from the security device.

The door opened with ease and the brothers slipped in, still unnoticed.

"Joe!" The younger Hardy was immediately pummeled by two tiny bodies. Cameron and Calvin stuck to him like glue.

"Hey guys," Joe whispered finally prying them from his legs. He then signaled the twins to speak quietly.

Frank looked around the room. Small girls and boys crowded the cement floor and rusting, metal bunk beds. Their eyes looked hopefully to Joe, obviously recognizing him.

"Joe?" Frank said quietly. His brother was having a reassuring conversation with the young English boys.

"Cam, Cal, this is Frank, my big brother," Joe introduced him. The twins smiled warmly at Frank as he took in their meager appearances and current living conditions.

"We're gonna get you out of here," Joe told them. Frank nodded and turned to the rest of the children telling them the same thing in choppy Romanian. The orphans seemed to understand him for their dirty faces brightened and some actually smiled.

"We're going to take you to your dad. He's here in Romania looking for you," Joe explained to Cal and Cam. But instead of the happy expressions he expected, the twin's faces seemed to melt in fear.

"N-no Joe we don't want to go back to our Papa," Calvin stuttered, tears emerging from his brown eyes. Frank gave his brother a confused look.

"But I thought--" Joe started but was interrupted by Cameron.

"Our Papa, he-he came here, Joe." Cam was having trouble keeping his voice steady. Though Frank thought he was doing a pretty good job keeping his composure, especially considering his age and the pending circumstances. "He came and saw us. He was right there." Cam pointed to the metal door. "Cal and me, we-we ran to him but-but a man pushed us back." Tears were rolling freely from both boy's eyes now.

"I-I didn't know what to do. We called to him, but he-he didn't help us, Joe. He j-just stood there and s-said something about c-collateral."

Cameron finally collapsed against Calvin, exhausted emotionally and physically. Joe turned to Frank, his face horror stricken. "Benjamin Ramsey was here?" Frank hissed, keeping his voice low. Joe opened his mouth to respond but a gruff voice behind them cut him off.

"You mean Benjamin Ramsey _is_ here," Benjamin growled with an evil amusement in his dark eyes.

"You bastard!" Joe yelled leaping towards Ramsey, his fist swinging despite the pain he felt in his shoulder and arm. But a hit to his stomach from a Romanian guard next to Benjamin landed him on his back, gasping.

"What's your angle Ramsey?" Frank asked angrily trying a less head-on tactic than his now moaning brother. Frank kneeled down, extending a worried hand to a still recovering Joe, pulling him into a sitting position. His face was rapidly growing from a pale hue to a livid red.

"The Assassins and my dear friend Darius offered me a very lucrative deal that I just couldn't pass up," Benjamin sneered. Any sign of the friendly man from before hand gone from his face.

"Money! You did all of this for money! And offering up your own sons a collateral to the Assassins! You're...you're sick!" Joe spat out, impulses on overdrive.

"They are unharmed, are they not?" Ramsey asked, glancing at the twins, who cowered under his gaze. "Although I cannot say the same for you," he added, appraising Joe's bloody bandages.

"You're horrible," Frank said quietly, but Benjamin didn't seem to care what they thought.

"Yes well, you two aren't so wonderful either, messing up all my plans."

Joe made another wild lunge for the man, but Frank held him back, glaring at the guard who had been ready to defend Ramsey yet again.

"You somehow escaped from the Assassins I practically threw you at--probably something to do with that gluttonous Charity woman. Then you managed to avoid the ambush in Paris!"

"But you helped me get out of the Romanian Underground?!--"

"Yes, yes, all to get you into the hands of the Assassins. You see, Darius may be part of them but those other horrid Romanians are not! I couldn't let them make any money off of you when I could receive compensation from _true_ Assassins."

"But...you were with the Network...you betrayed them and the Gray Man!" Joe argued. "All for money...how greedy can one person get? And Charity? You're the one who set up that deal with her?"

"Yes, I had a deal with Charity. You call _me_ greedy? You think _I'm_ horrible? Betraying the Network and Arthur Gray? Ha! You should ask Miss Charity about betrayal and greed the next time you see her...oh wait, of course, so sorry, there won't be a next time.

"You two have become a nuisance that no amount of money can fix." Benjamin scowled at them, pulling a pistol from his suit pocket. "Too bad. The Assassins really wanted you...and the money really was very good. Oh well...they'll get over it don't you think? After all, you'll be dead either way."


	17. Try Try Again

**A/N:** Wow, I can't believe it...the conclusion!...enjoy...

* * *

**Chapter 17: Try, Try Again**

Frank and Joe stared their impending demise stoically in the face.

That is, until a horrendous explosion shook through the night.

Oh no, Frank thought amidst the hysteria and chaos around him, the Network had started early!

"Joe!" Frank yelled to the younger boy, breaking the trance Joe had seemingly taken on since the surprising explosive attack. Understanding his brother, Joe immediately went on the offensive mode, driving full force into the Romanian guard who had previously assaulted him while Frank went for Ramsey, the pistol between them now long forgotten.

Though the explosion had caused minimal damage to the room they were currently occupying, the vibrations, heat, and smoke had allowed the Hardys enough of a distraction, while still allowing the kids to be out of harms way.

Men could be heard yelling in thick Romanian and running through the ragged halls outside, a mass panic ensuing, while the brothers battled with the two men.

"Knock, knock!" A shrill, smug sounding voice echoed into the room. After sending a powerful punch into his opponent's jaw that had the man more than dazed, Joe looked up to be met with glowing, viridescent emerald eyes.

"Charity?" he rasped out, in total shock by her presence. Another, more timid, head popped into the room; Grace had accompanied her sister.

"In the flesh!" She smiled a cat like grin. The nervous bubbling of Joe's stomach returned. Was Charity here of her own accord...or were the true Assassins not far behind?

"Vat is going on...Benjamin?" Darius Radu's terrified looking face shot into the doorway, his tough attitude lost amidst the chaos. He barely got time to sum up that Charity and her sister were not allies before Frank chopped down on the back of his neck, knocking him out cold.

"C-charity...I-I...what..." Benjamin Ramsey choked out through a haze of half consciousness, looking equally as frightened as his Romanian counterpart had.

"Hello, Mr. Ramsey...long time no see. You might want to get everyone out...who knows how many more explosives are hidden on the premises," Charity replied, a feral look in her sparkling eyes. Her voice was sugary yet menacing. She looked to the brothers, now standing before her, looking disheveled. "Good to see you're alive."

"Uh...yeah..." Joe answered slowly, still not sure about Charity's intentions.

"What are you doing here, Charity?" Frank asked simply, not wanting to play games considering that blast would have been heard not only by more guards, but by the Network as well.

"Why, rescuing you, of course," she said with a smirk.

"Oh." Frank and Joe both nodded simultaneously, still confused by the unlikely turn of events.

"Hai sa plecam. Graba acum copiii," Charity said to the children who were all staring at her and Grace wide eyed. It took them a moment to understand what exactly she meant, but eventually started following the younger of the sisters out the door. Frank was impressed with how well she seemed to speak Romanian.

"Well, are you two coming?" Charity wondered when the brothers just stood, looking after the kids.

"Oh, yes," Joe said, still slightly wary of what was happening. He wasn't sure whether to thank Charity or what exactly the etiquette of the situation called for. Frank and Joe followed the young woman out of the room; the children and Grace were seemingly already safely out of the rickety building.

"Char--" Joe was cut off by a bullet whizzing past his head. The three spun around to see a groggy looking Benjamin Ramsey standing behind them, a shaking gun in his hand and a livid bruise on his temple. A couple Romanian guards were helping to drag Radu out of the room behind him.

"You conniving little bi--" But Charity had whipped a small pistol from out of nowhere and had sent a bullet straight into Ramsey's shoulder.

"Don't you call me bad names Mr. Ramsey," she chuckled snidely. Thankfully, by now all the guards really cared about was getting everyone, including themselves, out of the orphanage before Charity pulled anymore tricks from her sleeves. The trio walked hurriedly out of the building easily.

Finally Frank turned to her. "One day you're_ turning us over_ to the Assassins and the next you're _rescuing_ us from them! What are you doing Charity?"

"That Ramsey man gypped me darling...this is just a little payback and you happened to be in the middle of it. Now I couldn't have the guilt of killing all these innocents on my mind, could I?"

Frank thought it quite ironic that Charity was speaking of guilt. She continued, taking what looked like a small detonator out of her back pocket, "Now we've got a bus full of lucky kids, Hardys in one piece--" she looked at Joe's still painful bullet wound, "--for the most part, and I get to have a little more fun..."

She turned to face the orphanage now a good distance away from them. There was a group of men gathered even farther away from the building and Ramsey was hobbling over next to a prone Radu, a defeated look on his face.

"Kaboom," Charity whispered happily, a fierce smile plastered on her face. She pushed the detonator and the crumbling building erupted.

"Was that all really necessary?" All three spun around to face the grimace marred features of Arthur Gray.

"Gray?" Joe questioned, the appearance of the Gray Man just adding to his seemingly never ending loop of bewildered shock.

"I see you made it," Frank said hesitantly to the Network man, giving his brother a slightly apologetic look.

"Yes," the man answered flatly. "And _you_ are here _early_." Frank smiled uncomfortably, but didn't say anything more. Gray then reluctantly turned to the auburn haired woman next to them.

"How are you Charity? And your sister? Doing well I hope?" There was a slight hint of regret in his monotone voice and a look that neither Frank or Joe had ever seen in the man's bland eyes before.

"Fine." Charity's own eyes were burning and her voice was laced with venom, but there was something about her demeanor that had changed immediately when Gray had shown up. She almost looked vulnerable, which was something extremely odd for Chairty.

"You two know each other?" Frank inquired, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Mutually," Charity mumbled irritably under her breath towards the Hardys.

The Gray Man turned surreptitiously to the two onlooking boys. "A fine job you've done here," he said rather sarcastically.

"Hey! You can't blame us...she--," Joe pointed angrily at Charity, finally feeling the weight of his confusion weighing down upon his shoulders, "She's the one who blew up the whole damn building!"

Frank laid a calming hand on his brother's shoulder, but looked at Gray just as crossly. "Joe's right...you can't blame any of this on us." His brown eyes grew thoughtful. "Or...well...at least not the explosions."

"Yeah." Joe nodded, glaring violently at the unimpressed man. "The kids are out safely and it looks like you're men are taking care of the bad guys...what's the problem?"

"You didn't follow protocol," was all the Gray Man said, his voice still laden with annoyance; though to which party it was directed at was still uncertain.

"Protocol?!--" For his own safety, Frank cut Joe off.

"I acted rashly, I won't argue that," the older boy answered cooly. "But nothing can be done about any of that now."

"Yes. You are correct." Frank wasn't sure whether Gray was referring to his first or second point. The Gray Man gave them one last unaffected glance and turned on his heel to join the Network agents working calculatingly to capture all of the Romanian and ex-Assassin felons.

"Don't mind him...he's just in a bad mood," Charity said in a low voice from behind Frank and Joe. Both turned to stare at her quizzically.

"You've met the Gray Man before?" Joe asked, quirking a curious eyebrow at the woman. Her face was surprisingly modest and calm.

"I better go help Grace," she said, avoiding the Hardy's stares. She started to walk towards her sister who was seeing to all the children. Joe caught Cam and Cal's cheery eyes and gave them a halfhearted wave, though his mind was now on other things.

Joe grabbed Charity's elbow. "Let's talk Charity. How about answering our questions for starters?"

Charity, for once in her life, looked defeated. Her face bowed slightly and her body slackened. "Yes, I know Arthur Gray."

"Ok...that's a start. How do you know him?"

She sighed heavily, a sparkle coming to her green eyes without a hint of the satisfaction it had had earlier. "Not many people know this...It's sort of difficult...My name is Charity Grayson...My father's name is Arthur Grayson or Gray...the head of the a secret organization, the Network...the father of a thief...," there was a long, hollow pause. "Though you two know him simply as..."

"The Gray Man..."

_**The End...**or is it?_

* * *

**A/N: **First of all I just wanted to give a special thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story and for all those who reviewed...(Melissa, animegrlsteph, Flightgirl, Chromde, HelenLouise, heartnmhome, Midieval Liz, and Red Hardy)...I really appreciate your support!

Secondly, do you want a sequel? 'Cause I can _totally_ do a sequel ;) ...I'm thinking that a sequel here is appropriate :)

Lastly, again thanks to everyone! I'm glad y'all enjoy reading my stories and I hope to keep writing 'em for you in the future!

Your humble servant,

Amethyst Noir


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